Static
by galfoy
Summary: The Order rescued Draco and Lucius Malfoy after Lord Voldemort turned on them. All the safe houses are full, and Hermione Granger is the only one who can take them in. Will she agree after having suffered a drastic nervous breakdown?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_I'm back! I wrote this in a fairly different style / feel than The Boy in the Hammock, so don't be too surprised at the change in tone. This is an angsty one. However, it's still me, and I can promise that it'll be a good read. I'm thinking of updating every three days or so. As I did last time, if you guys review like crazy, I'll update every day. I'll leave that part in your capable hands. So far I'm 14 chapters in and nearing the end... I think? We'll see. Could be longer. There's lots going on. Actually, I take it back. It's definitely going to be longer._

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>It was like waking up in the middle of a nightmare.<p>

Consciousness came to Draco Malfoy like a hammer to the head, and he gasped himself awake. Almost immediately, he wished he was unconscious again. He was in a world of pain he never knew existed. Excruciating agony ate at his skin, as though he had been doused in accelerant and lit up. He could almost feel the flames licking their way up his body, but he couldn't smell any fire. It was all he could do not to move, not to scream. He felt the panic rise in his throat. The air was stale and damp, heavy with fear. Disjointed memories came back to him, but he didn't want to believe they were real. They were too hard to accept.

_How could they leave us here to die? After all we've done?_

He registered the fact that he was lying on the ground until another wave of pain hit and cleared his mind of anything rational. Heartbeat after heartbeat pulsed against his tender skin, making him almost wish his heart would stop altogether. No more heartbeat, no more pain. It sounded so bloody tempting. A small groan escaped his lips. Even the inside of his mouth burned - had the Dark Lord's spell reached him there too?

He could feel his anger simmering underneath the injury, fury speeding up his masochistic heart.

_Betrayed_, taunted the voice inside of him. _We've been betrayed by our own side_.

He didn't want to believe it.

There were shouts and explosions, but he couldn't summon the energy to open his eyes. He knew with sick certainty that he was still in that godforsaken basement, tortured and thrown down there because the Dark Lord no longer favoured his family. After all they had sacrificed.

He still didn't want to believe it. Denial seemed easier, somehow. Easier than the terrifying truth.

In exchange for power, the Malfoy family paid with _everything _they had: their wealth, their home, years of service. In return, the Dark Lord kept them in his inner circle, favouring them and keeping them close to his operations. They were revered and feared as Malfoys should be. Years dragged on and the war continued, each side vying for control. Things were comfortable. Predictable. As much as can be during a war at any rate, working as a Dark soldier, trying to stay alive.

But then something changed. The Malfoys started slipping down in the ranks, barely noticeable at first, but impossible to miss near the end. It culminated in the worst way possible: the Dark Lord murdered the matriarch in a violent rage and left the father and son to die a painful, shameful death. It was a drastic and humiliating fall from grace. Malfoys belonged at the top, or so Draco had always believed. Right now, the only remaining Malfoys were drowning in their own blood, forgotten in some Death Eater hideout. Even in his pain-induced stupor, Draco could see how hopeless the situation was.

_Nobody will ever find us here. If they do, we're as good as dead. Nobody wants us alive._

The situation made him furious, his anger burning as intensely as the spell that was eating him alive. They _belonged_ in Voldemort's inner circle. They believed in everything he stood for. They were _fucking loyal_. Those opportunistic, sniveling rats didn't deserve the goddamn glory. Why were they tossed out while others got to stay?

There was a scream from somewhere in the darkness. It was familiar. With some difficulty, Draco focused his thoughts. _Father? Is he still alive?_ He knew he'd never hear his mother scream again. He'd never hear her do anything again. He saw her struck down, horror frozen on her face in a flash of green light. He pushed the image away - it was too much to handle. _She can't be dead_.

But there was no mistaking it... That was his father's voice. Draco had a flickering memory of Nagini slithering towards Lucius, his father's eyes lit up with fear. Nagini must have succeeded in reaching him, or at least partially, if those screams were any indication. Somehow, his father hadn't succumbed to the blood loss or the poison. It would take him soon, but he was fighting it.

He could fight all he wanted. There was no hope for them.

Draco heard more shouting, voices he couldn't identify. Surely the Death Eaters weren't coming back for them. It wasn't their style. Their style was to turn on their own kind. Perhaps they came back to finish the job? One could only hope.

He was hit with another wave and he heard himself whimper. _Oh God_, the pain. When the Dark Lord had turned his wand on him, Draco knew it would be bad... But this was unspeakably painful. A Killing Curse would have been quicker, but perhaps that was the point.

More yelling. What the _fuck_ was going on?

He heard a far away scuffle that must have been his father.

"Information for rescue!" Lucius yelled, hoarsely, in between tortured sobs. "Please! Please help us!"

Draco felt his consciousness waver. _Who on earth are you begging for rescue? Nobody wants t_wo Death Eaters who have outlived their usefulness.__

Feet hammered along the dirt floor, sending small rumbles in the earth towards where Draco lay. Every little movement hurt, every ripple in the air stung his skin. His eyes remained closed - for all he knew, they had been burned shut. He didn't care who was there, not anymore. He was waiting to die. It wasn't happening quickly enough.

"Holy shit," said a voice near his head. "We need to get them out of here, and fast." The voice sounded like it had been slowed down and replayed under water.

_Strange_, Draco thought.

A pair of hands touched his shoulders and he screamed bloody murder.

"Knock him out and bring him," said a harsher voice. "If he dies in transit, so be it."

Draco didn't remember anything after that.

* * *

><p>He was being carried, that much he could tell. His ears picked up snippets of frantic whispers as he drifted along death's divide.<p>

"... Lucius is missing a leg. A fucking leg, Remus. It's been bitten off, and you get just bloody bet it was that snake..."

"We're trying to stop the bleeding - it was torn off at the knee, and you know we're trying Tonks, but we've got no real Healers..."

"He said he would give us information! We need to do more! We haven't ever been this close to getting solid leads in years! Just think of what we could learn..."

"Merlin Tonks, don't you think I understand that? I _know_ how important this is."

"I think you both know what we have to do," said a third voice, scratchy and tired. "I'll ask Harry and Ron to talk to her. They won't survive without her help."

"She'll never agree," hissed the female voice. "She doesn't even speak to anyone these days, let alone leave the house. She's completely unhinged. And asking her to keep _them_ alive? That's a blind shot in the dark."

"She'll have to. There is no other choice. Lucius we can subdue for now, but the younger Malfoy is as good as dead if he doesn't get some help. They knew each other in school... Maybe there's a chance that -"

"So let him die! It's Lucius we need, and as I understand it, their relationship at school left much to be desired - "

"Do you really think he'll talk to us if we let his son die, Tonks? Word is that Narcissa was killed earlier tonight..."

There was a low whistle. "You-Know-Who sure isn't happy with the Malfoys. How the mighty have fallen. I wonder what happened?"

Draco had been trying to follow the conversation, straining his ears to operate through the waves of pain that were rolling over him. Denial hit him again as a sheer defence mechanism. He wanted to scream at the voices that they had it wrong - the Dark Lord appreciated his family, he understood how dedicated they were. This was just a mistake. His mother couldn't possibly be dead. His father couldn't possibly have lost a leg. And as for himself... All he remembered was the feeling of being set on fire, and the Dark Lord's maniacal laugh. As he was hit with another wave of pain, his thoughts blurred.

_I don't want to believe it._

"I'm going to talk to the boys," said a voice. "We don't have much time, and if she agrees, she will want to get this done as quickly as possible so she can get back home."

"I'm telling you Moody... She'll never agree."

"It's all we can do. She's the only one with enough training. Anthony is dead. We have to try."

* * *

><p>The next time he woke up, he felt completely numb. There was no more pain, but there was no more <em>anything <em>either.

He cracked open his eyes and looked blankly at the unfamiliar face staring down at him.

"Pain cancellation spell," said the person by way of explanation. "Had to do it. Your system was shutting down. She'll help you in a minute."

Draco let his eyes slide sideways in the direction of the stranger's jumpy glances.

His father lay a few metres from him on a low table, pale as bone. Drenched in sweat and blood, his long hair stringy and knotted, Lucius looked like a corpse. His right leg was severed at the knee, just like the voices had said. The part of him that was clinging to denial scoffed, assuming he was hallucinating. _Your father can't be missing a leg_. The other part of him wanted to scream. It was a scene from his most horrific nightmares. Lucius Malfoy, broken, dying, at the hands of his Lord. _No, no, no_.

Anger started to simmer within him as he saw who was kneeling beside him - that fucking Mudblood. _Goddamn it_. They had been rescued by the Order. Of all the self-righteous, useless, powerless bunch of halfwits...

_I would have preferred to die._

"My name is Hermione," said the Mudblood to his father, her voice monotone. "I'm going to seal your wound now."

She began, and Draco watched as if it were a strange dream. Granger. Hermione Granger. The war had not been kind to her; she was a rake, her hair limp, her skin pallid. But there was something niggling at his thoughts... What was it? He tried to puzzle it out through the fog in his brain.

_There's something wrong_, Draco realized suddenly. Something other than the obvious. Granger, the Gryffindor Princess, was working on his father like a robot. Cauterize, mend, seal, repeat. Wipe the blood on a cotton sheet. Not a single expression crossed her features. She might as well have been sewing on a button.

Granger's eyes, normally so full of pride, misguided courage and fire, were completely dead.

Lucius must have been given something for the pain as well, because he was able to keep his eyes open while she healed him. He observed her drawn face with something like angry curiosity, his breaths laboured.

"Aren't you the Mudblood?" he rasped.

"One and the same," she responded, not moving her eyes from his massacred leg. "And if you tell me not to touch you, I will leave you here to die. I owe you no favours." She delivered the words as though she was reading the weather. Still not a flicker of emotion.

Draco continued to study her, oddly shocked at the change in her demeanor since school. They were much older now - the war had been going on for years, and Draco was twenty five going on fifty. But to have changed that much? To behave like the walking dead?

Lucius didn't speak after her blunt statement, staring at the ceiling in defeat. She bandaged his stump and said a few more spells over the damaged area.

"You need to rest now. When you have healed enough, we'll find you a prosthetic." It wasn't a sympathetic comment; it was factual and cold.

Abruptly, she stood up and grabbed a leather satchel from the floor. Bottles clinked around inside. In three steps, she had reached Draco's side.

Dropping to her knees, she met his eyes. Draco found nothing familiar there.

"Hello Malfoy."

"Fuck off, Mudblood. I'd rather die than have your filthy hands on me." He barely even knew he was going to say the words until they were already out of his mouth, but damnit, he was just so fucking _angry_ about everything. Why him? Why _her_?

She regarded him with that same, expressionless gaze, her eyes empty of anything distinctly Granger.

"No problem," she responded, calmly. With a tap of her wand, an ocean of pain rushed into him. He had thought earlier that the pain couldn't possibly get worse, but he was wrong. It was like being set aflame all over again. Draco's screams pierced through the air as Hermione calmly stood up, cleaned her hands, and walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>Someone was howling.<p>

It was _him_, Draco realized.

"You fucking moron!" hissed a familiar voice. "Do you know how hard it was to get her here?"

Draco heard a door slam and someone ran into the room.

"She's having tea, mate. She's not talking again. I swear to Merlin, she's cracked. Looking off into the distance with no bloody feeling..."

"We know she's cracked, Ron! She's broken. She's broken and this idiot thought it would be smart to rile her up..."

Draco heard himself scream again. _Oh Gods_, this needed to stop. He was going to lose his mind. Pain pulsed through him like a battering ram. Light exploded behind his eyelids. He thought he meant what he had said to Granger, but he also didn't really expect her to leave him here either. It went against everything he knew about her. Granger didn't leave people to die. She just _didn't_.

His voice was going hoarse. He screamed anyway.

"Please..." he heard himself say. "Please..."

"Don't beg to me, arsehole," said the voice he now recognized as Potter's. "You told our only Healer that you'd rather die than have her touch you, and she obliged. We had to beg her ourselves to get her to come. She didn't exactly relish the idea of saving your life. You gave her the perfect excuse to leave."

"Granger!" Draco screamed, ignoring Potter, hoping she would hear from wherever she was. He was delirious now - he knew he was going to die if this pain didn't stop. It felt like a permanent _Cruciatus_. Pride be damned, he was going to beg until he passed out. "Granger, please!"

They all waited in the room while Draco screamed her name until he was reduced to quiet sobs. Ron and Harry looked sadly at the ground. They didn't really know if she would come back either. She wasn't the same now. Everything was different.

Draco's voice was nearly completely gone. Death it was, then. She wasn't coming. He had fucked up. He felt a flicker of regret that he hadn't just kept his mouth shut. He hated her, hated every inch of her, but he wanted to stay alive too.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. A few soft steps and a small, whispered spell, and the pain vanished. Draco opened his eyes, sweaty and shaking. He whimpered.

Granger stood above him, calmly unfolding a sheet and throwing it over his body. She vanished his clothes underneath. A small cauldron sat beside her, filled with something that smelled like eucalyptus.

Her dead eyes met his.

"Don't push me again," she said, her expression still blank. "I'm going to heal you now. Go to sleep."

With a shudder of relief, he did.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

* * *

><p>Draco woke up in a strange room. The bed was soft. The sheets were soft. He wasn't in pain, but he was covered in some sort of ointment. Everything smelled like eucalyptus.<p>

Lucius sat in the chair across from him, looking as though he had bathed and eaten since the last time Draco was conscious. He now had a metal cap over his stump, with a long pole in place of his shin and foot.

"Son," he said, sternly. "You almost didn't make it."

Draco swallowed with great difficulty. His tongue felt thick and numb.

"I will bring you up to speed on what has happened in the past week," Lucius continued, sounding angry and tired. "After we were tortured, we were left in the basement of the fourth safe house, presumably to die. Somehow the Order had planned an attack on the site that night, found us, and I traded information for our rescue. I've agreed to respond to specific questions about our operations, while they've agreed to heal us and hide us."

"You sold us out," Draco ground out between clenched teeth, glaring at his father, his sluggish tongue slowing him down. He was furious with his father. How were they supposed to get back in the Dark Lord's good graces now? His head pounded just thinking about it. "You're helping the Order? We are Death Eaters, father! We don't associate with these types of filth! We need to get back to our side!"

Lucius turned livid, the vein in his neck straining with the tension. He brought his face within centimetres of Draco's, locking eyes.

"Sold us out?" he growled. "_Our side_, Draco? Our side murdered your mother, took our money, our ancestral home, and left us to rot like common prisoners. I may not like associating with the blood traitors, but I'll be damned if I let your mother's death go unavenged. And do you know why they turned on us? Because a curse from my wand rebounded during a mission and struck one of our own. Yes, a rebound I had no control over cost your mother her life because the Dark Lord was waiting for an excuse to be rid of us. You would do to gain some perspective, my dear son. As I understand it, you almost died from pain before the Mudblood finally came back. Apparently she doesn't heal anymore - she had to be persuaded to come in the first place. You're lucky to be alive! Don't feed me any more tripe about 'our side.' They left us to die. They used us while they needed us, and then disposed of us. I owe them _nothing_."

Lucius slammed himself back into the chair, fuming.

Draco blinked dumbly. He had never seen his father like this. He pushed down the nausea he felt imagining his mother's eyes again, right before she was killed. Then he pushed the memory away. He couldn't deal with that right now. He didn't want to believe it. The rest of his father's words bounced around in his head. Something stuck out…

_Granger doesn't heal anymore? What the fuck happened to her?_

Before he could articulate the thought, Mad-Eye Moody came barging in, looking as crazy as ever.

"Awake, are you? Good, because we don't have room to keep you both here much longer. We are looking into places we can hide you, but every single safe house we have is full, and I think you'd be killed anyway if we put you in with some of those folks."

"Where do you expect us to go, you bloody fool?" snarled Lucius. "Are we to stay in this sitting room until the end of the war?"

"Watch your tongue, Lucius," said Moody, a dangerous smile on his face. "Beggars can't be choosers. We're working on it."

The door opened behind him and all three men looked at who had come in.

"Out," said Hermione, her face as expressionless as ever. "He needs another treatment."

Lucius and Moody sighed simultaneously and began to make their way out of the room. Moody leaned towards Hermione as he left. "Thank you, Hermione," he said, softer than Draco could ever remember him speaking. It puzzled him. She wasn't a fucking porcelain doll.

She didn't respond. In fact, she didn't acknowledge that she'd heard him at all. With her satchel in hand, she walked towards Draco without meeting his eyes, and started unloading potions onto the floor next to the bed.

He looked at her with morbid curiosity. Something had happened to her. Something _big_. Everyone here was walking on eggshells, trying not to make a misstep. The goody-two-shoes bookworm had turned into a shadow of her former self, and he was clearly not the only one who saw how strange it was.

The bottles clinked together as she finished arranging them on the floor.

Draco decided that as long as he was stuck seeing her this often, he might as well fish for information.

"Where'd you learn how to be a Healer, Granger?" he said, testing her, wondering if she could even hear what was happening around her. She looked like a zombie. It felt like a stupid question, but he wanted to get her talking.

She continued to work, uncorking bottles, ignoring him completely.

His anger flared. "Don't fucking ignore me, Mudblood," he growled, letting his temper get the better of him. How _dare_ she pretend he didn't exist? People like her were meant to serve people like him, and here he was, dependent on her for survival. It was unnatural. He was only trying to make conversation, anyway. She was always such a fucking swot, even in school. Too good for anyone but her precious idiot boys.

Her eyes drifted towards his, indifferent as always.

"I don't answer to anyone, Malfoy, and certainly not you. I'm here to siphon some of the curse out of your body and give you more medication for pain. If you want to pull what you did last time, I can leave. The curse will eat you up, eventually. It will take months to get it out of your system, even with daily treatments."

She made a move to put the bottles back in her bag, and his hand shot out, touching her wrist.

"No!" he said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He knew he couldn't take the pain again - it would break him. "No. Don't leave. I... Please don't leave." Begging was humiliating, but the idea of the curse coming back was too much to handle. Noticing his hand was still touching her wrist, he wrenched it away with a disgusted sneer. Just because he wanted to be healed didn't mean he wanted to touch her, filth that she was.

With a shrug, she went back to preparing the lotions as though nothing had happened. Draco watched her work. Their short conversation had done nothing to ease his curiosity, and now he was humiliated too. The _bitch_.

He refused to believe he couldn't get some kind of information our of her. He was always good at manipulating people - some moody Gryffindor shouldn't be a challenge. He decided to try a different approach.

"Can you tell me about the curse?" he asked. She always liked to prattle on about things before - maybe her desire to lecture others had survived whatever happened to her. He didn't know why he was so damn curious, but in his universe, Granger was always one way. It was an annoying way, a way that made him want to strangle her, but it was familiar. It irked him a bit to see this strange, damaged version of her in front of him.

She appeared not to hear him at first, and he almost sighed out of frustration. _Always so goddamn stubborn_.

Then she began to speak.

"It's known as the Curse of the Flame. It doesn't cause visible burns, but it will make you feel as though you've been set on fire until the pain kills you. It's like a Muggle virus in that it can stay dormant inside you for a long time before coming back again. You need to have someone pull it out of you, bit by bit, until it's fully gone."

She stood up now, her hands cupped with a red liquid pooling inside of them.

"Pull the sheet down to your waist," she ordered.

Glaring at her, and biting his tongue to keep the slew of insults from escaping, he did as he was told. It was the first time he noticed that he was completely naked under the sheet.

With his chest exposed, she leaned over him and let the cool liquid spill onto his skin. The liquid was more like a gel in consistency, oozing from her hands in slow motion as it connected with his torso. She pressed her hands into his chest and started murmuring an incantation.

Draco felt the strangest sensation as she spoke. Her small, freezing hands pushed into him, the potion was heating up, and something deep within him started to stir.

_The curse_, he realized with a start.

It felt like it was being sucked out of him, through his blood, up into his chest and straight towards her hands. It was the most peculiar feeling he'd ever experienced. It burned as it left him.

She slowly pulled her hands away, and black stringy webs followed as she continued chanting. She was, literally, pulling the magic out of him. The black tendrils hung from her fingertips now, no longer connected to his body. With a final word, they were dropped into a small bucket.

"I trained in secret with a Healer who supported the Order. He was killed."

Draco looked up at her with surprise. She'd answered his earlier question. Much later, and still without an ounce of emotion, but she'd answered it.

"That was a weird feeling," he said dazedly, answering nobody's question in particular.

"Go back to bed," she said, her dead eyes focusing on packing up the potions and then gliding out of the room.

He fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

><p>Something prodded him out of slumber. Sounds. An argument.<p>

"... I think it's a terrible idea..."

"But what are the options, Harry? Seriously. They have to go somewhere, and they can't stay here. The Ministry is under You-Know-Who's control, and the safe houses are full."

"We can't ask that of her. Have you _seen_ her? She's hardly said three words to us in the last week. She can barely function. It's a miracle that she hasn't left yet..."

"She won't leave because we asked her to stay. We're the only reason she's here to help, which is why we're the ones who can ask her to do this."

"Ron, we are not sending the Malfoys, two people who would rather see her roasted on a spit, to live with her! You're fucking barmy!"

"There is nowhere else to put them! They need regular medical attention, and we have to at least provide that to keep up our end of the bargain. Harry, I'm not suggesting this to be difficult... Look at it this way: it will give her something to do. You know as well as I do that looking after two people, even though they're total pricks, would be better for her than sitting around at home brewing mysterious potions and then trying to off herself."

There was a depressing silence in the room.

"Yeah," said Harry, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "I guess that's a valid point. But I'm still not sold. I mean, Malfoy? I wouldn't wish him on anyone. He could just make things worse."

"I resent that," muttered Draco, who had been listening to the conversation with interest, feigning sleep to make sure they kept talking. _Granger tried to kill herself? You must be joking. _He opened his eyes to find Potter and Weasley glaring at him from the corner of the room. "Why are you having this conversation here, incidentally?"

"Because we're at capacity," Ron spat, angrily. "Every bloody room is full of people recovering from your lot."

"So that's why you're trying to push my father and I off on Granger? Fascinating."

"Fuck off, Malfoy. You'd be bloody lucky if she agreed. Otherwise this room will be your home until the war is over. As you know, it doesn't really have an end date."

Draco didn't much like the sound of that, but living with the Mudblood? Those were his choices?

"What broke her?" he asked, suddenly.

"Excuse me?" seethed Harry.

"What broke her?" Draco repeated. "She's a fucking zombie, walking around like the undead. What happened to your precious princess?"

"Like you care, Malfoy," snarled Ron. "Your side's fault anyway. Fucking deranged what they did to her. C'mon Harry, I don't feel like talking to this sod."

They left in an angry huff, muttering to themselves as they stomped off.

_My side's fault?_ he thought muddily before sleep took him again.

* * *

><p>"You want me to do WHAT?"<p>

Draco heard the screech echo through the entire house, which he had concluded was Headquarters for the stupid Order. How long had he been here now? Two weeks total? _What a fucking waste of time_. He should be at the manor helping plan out the next attack, not lying helplessly in a sitting room while the Gryffindor Princess pulled black magic out of his chest.

"Are you out of your collective minds?" came the next shriek. Soothing voices followed, trying to calm her down.

_Sounds like Potter and Weasley are having a great time convincing Granger to take my father and I_, he thought bitterly.

Not that he wanted to stay with her. She was a filthy little know-it-all, a pathetic Mudblood and a member of the saintly Golden Trio. He hated them. He hated her.

But he also hated staying in a fucking living room while the misfit representatives of the Light traipsed through and glared at him. They ought to be _dead_. They would soon be, if the Dark Lord had his way. He hoped that day would come soon.

But for now, he wanted a room with a door that closed properly, and a bed that wasn't a transfigured couch. If that meant staying with the Mudblood, so be it. He saw her miserable face every day as it was - nobody else knew how to pull the curse out of him, and she wasn't in a state to train anyone. She didn't seem to speak at all outside of the tiny group he saw day in and day out when he happened to be conscious.

Hermione came storming in then, bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes still dead but her face fuming. It was the most emotion he'd seen her display since his rescue.

"Sheet down to your waist," she ordered, mixing her potions with vigour. He did as he was told.

As she was dropping the tendrils of the curse into the bucket, he took a small chance, hoping she understood what he meant.

"I'll be nice, Granger."

Her eyes drifted upwards. She had calmed down - expressionless again. _Damn_.

"You don't know how to be nice. Never did."

And then she was gone.

* * *

><p>Draco was prodded awake days later by an angry Ron Weasley.<p>

"What the hell did you say to her?" he growled.

"What do you mean?" Draco mumbled, trying to remember his last conversation with Granger.

"Out of nowhere, she tells us she'll allow you and your father to stay with her. Three days ago, she was screaming at the idea. What did you say?"

"Fuck off, Weasel. I told her I'd be nice. She didn't believe me, okay? Hasn't said a word about it since."

_Wait... We can stay with her?_

Ron thought about that for a moment. "Told her you'd be nice." He said it more to himself than anyone else.

He narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Listen Malfoy. We're going to set you up over there. 'Mione will take care of your medical needs, but otherwise, you're on your own. You're in hiding, got that? You stay at her house, and you don't leave. I know you'd rather be back with your precious Dark Lord, which I'll never understand after what he did to your family, but you will stay hidden if you want to stay alive."

Ron brought his face right up to Draco's, rough anger twisting his features. He looked like he was trying very hard to control himself, and lowered his voice. "Hermione's been through a lot. She's not herself. She won't take care of you if you fuck up again - she's only doing this for Harry and I. Don't make things harder for her, okay? Just... Just don't push her. I swear to Merlin, if her condition worsens because of you, I'll murder you myself."

Draco looked at Ron, trying to decide how he felt about his strange plea. Or was it a threat? And what was her condition?

"What broke her?" he said instead.

"Piss off," Ron snarled, standing up and leaving the room.

Draco smirked. At least he'd be out of this goddamned sitting room. Stupid, soft-hearted Gryffindors.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

* * *

><p>Hermione was sitting in the broom closet off the kitchen at Headquarters, nursing a cup of tea, wondering what on earth she had gotten herself into.<p>

She had agreed to take them in. The two remaining Malfoys. Her own personal beacons of all that was wrong with the world. Two Death Eaters that didn't come to the Order because they'd had a change of heart, or a moral epiphany, but because the other side decided they wanted them dead. Simple as that.

As curious as she found Malfoy's strange promise that he would be nice, she didn't believe it for a second. She actually _meant_ what she had said: he didn't know how to pull such a thing off. He'd never learned how to be nice, and he was too damaged to start learning now. Malfoy was poisoned to his core, and he was far worse now than he ever was in school. At least in school she could believe that he was just parroting what he'd been told, shooting off at the mouth because he loved the attention. Now he really seemed to _believe_ the rubbish he had learned serving under Voldemort. He wasn't a parrot anymore, he was a hawk, and he missed the power he had when being a Malfoy still meant something. Hermione could tell he hadn't come to terms with his situation yet, as evidenced by the fact that he was pretending his mother's death didn't happen, glossing it over with angry insults and diversions. _That's going to be a powder keg of an explosion when he finally accepts it_, she thought. _Something's wrong with your brain if you say you'll go back to the same maniac who wants you and your family dead._

And Hermione knew all about having something wrong with your brain.

She sighed, and sipped her scalding tea, wincing as it burned her tongue. Sitting in a broom closet and sighing to oneself didn't make her look sane or together, she knew, but she also knew that she couldn't possibly damage her image any more than she had already done. She heard the whispers. She knew everyone thought she had cracked. She just didn't care.

Besides, it's not like they were wrong.

Hermione had moments of lucidity, like right now, thinking things over in a closet the size of a house elf. She could manage in here, with nobody around, no expectations. Thoughts came to her clearly and coherently. She could almost pretend that her brain worked as it should.

But when she stepped outside, where people were staring, judging her, asking her questions, it was as though her mind sunk into static. Her thoughts were no longer clear, she didn't speak, she didn't hear half of what was said to her. The outside world was too big, too loud. Her brain couldn't take it. She was lucky she knew how to heal as well as she did, because she could set herself on automatic and let the motions play out. _Wash, rinse, repeat_. If it required any more independent thought, she'd be completely useless.

Hermione slurped a little more of her tea, grateful that it had cooled down enough not to sear her tongue, even though the damage was done.

She knew what it looked like. The Order would assume that she decided to do the unthinkable and accept the Malfoys into her home because of Harry and Ron, because they asked her to. Not only were they her best friends, but the Order knew that they had also rescued her after the _incident_, as they had taken to calling it. It angered her that such a simple word could describe such a horrific event, but that wasn't a fight she was willing to start. _Call it a massacre. Call it a Holocaust. Don't dumb it down_. Harry and Ron were the ones who pulled her out, the first faces she saw after completely losing her mind, a trembling screaming mess. It took her months to start speaking again, and even then, it was only a few words here and there. She had started with "thank you," and expanded her vocabulary bit by bit, when the static gave her the space she needed to form sentences. Harry and Ron heard her speak the most, because she was forever grateful to them for her rescue. Otherwise, she kept quiet.

Still, she wasn't doing it because they asked her to. She was doing it because she understood their motivations for doing so, she understood their fears, and she shared them.

The static took over her brain at random times. It could stay for hours, days, weeks. Sometimes, she could sink in so deeply that she would lose track of who she was, where she was, and how long she had been there. She had sat in the bathtub for an entire day once until Harry came and pulled her out, blue and shaking.

Those long bouts of lost time allowed parts of her brain to act without her express knowledge, as though it were operating on messages that she didn't remember formulating. That's when she started making the potions, not entirely consciously, and taking them with the muted hopes of never waking up. She had been revived three times now after swallowing enough sleep potion to kill an elephant, and Harry and Ron no longer allowed her to keep the stuff at her house. They delivered one dose every day and watched her drink it before bed to keep the night terrors away. She felt like a child, but she knew it was for her own good. When the static took over, she seemed to give up on life. As empty as her life had become, she didn't particularly want to die.

Harry and Ron clearly hoped that having the Malfoys in her house would give her enough to do that she wouldn't try to slide into a permanent sleep again. And as strange as it was, she agreed. Lucius was a cruel man, but he didn't push her buttons. Malfoy, on the other hand, made her brain work. She had said more to him than she had said to just about anyone over the past year and a half, and although she didn't understand it, she figured it was because he made her angry. If looking after him and his father kept the static at bay, if it gave her some sense of routine, than she would take it. Not just because Harry and Ron asked, but because it might save her life.

When she needed to escape the Malfoys, she had her job to run off to. She only worked half days, writing spells for Wolfgang Armiste, a friend of the Order and a friend to her. She knew she was good at her job most of the time, providing the static didn't take over and turn her into a zombie. She simply didn't show up if she was having an off day. Wolfgang didn't mind, and never bothered her about it. He looked after her.

It wasn't exactly a normal job - she knew she only had it because it kept her centered and safe, and because Wolfgang seemed to genuinely care about her well-being. The lab was secure, quiet, and she didn't have to see anyone while she worked, having been given her own space and a door that locked. She had her groceries delivered to the lab so she wouldn't have to go outside. Every weekday afternoon, she would head to work, chip away at her To Do list of spells, and head back home for dinner.

Now her mornings and evenings would be filled with angry Malfoys instead of dangerous silence.

She sighed again, staring into her cool tea. What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

><p>A knock on the closet door lifted her out of her troubled thoughts.<p>

"'Mione? You in there, love?"

Instead of answering, she pushed the door open to find Harry leaning against the frame. His black hair was still as messy as ever, and his green eyes were so gentle. As much as she hated being coddled, she appreciated Harry's kindness more than she could say.

"Hi Harry," she said.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said, quietly.

"I know. I think it's a good idea though, now that I've given it some thought."

He nodded, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Shall we set them up at your place, then? I'm sure you'll be happy not to keep coming back here."

It was her turn to nod. She hated Headquarters. Too many people. Too much chatter.

"Are you going to be okay with them? I know Lucius only needs care every few days, but Malfoy... Well... His condition seems more involved."

She shrugged. "It's a bad curse. You-Know-Who wanted to make sure he suffered. He'll need treatment daily for the next month or two at least - the pain will come back to him quickly if he misses a day. He just calls me Mudblood and asks random questions - it's fine. Predictable enough. He doesn't scare me."

Harry offered her his hand, and she took it, lifting herself off the overturned bucket she had been using as a stool. They intertwined fingers and walked towards the sitting room where they would floo to her house.

Malfoy eyed their joined hands suspiciously as they entered the room. She noticed but couldn't bring herself to care. He could think whatever he wanted. She was allowed to hold hands with her best friend. Looking around, she saw Ron, Lucius, and a surprise guest.

"Wolfgang!" she said with a smile.

"Hermione," said the tall, handsome man with long black hair. It was heavily streaked with grey already, but he didn't look older than his thirty five years. He smiled at her warmly.

Harry started to talk about the arrangements, but Hermione wasn't listening anymore. The static was settling over her brain again, muting everything as she let her thoughts roam. She vaguely remembered getting in the floo and walking out into her living room. She was aware of the five men in her peripheral vision, discussing rules, being shown around the house, trading veiled insults. She just wanderd out to her yard and sat down in the grass, waiting for the fuzz to leave her mind.

"Earth to Granger," snapped a voice.

The fuzz disappated. She looked up to see Malfoy's piercing grey eyes, looking at her angrily, as usual.

"How did you afford a house like this, Granger?" he sneered. "Bit beyond your price range, isn't it?"

She was almost tempted to smile. Malfoy had just unwittingly paid her a compliment. True, she would never have bought a house like this on her own, but she wasn't going to turn down Anthony's bequest.

"Ask Harry," she said, standing up and heading back inside. She must have been out there for a while - the sun had set and the air was cold. She shivered and wandered over to the stove to put water on for tea.

"I did," he said, angrily again. "Told me it was none of my business."

She wasn't listening anymore. She filled up the kettle, placed it on the stove, and stared off through the window. What day was it today?

"Mudblood! What did I say about ignoring me?" he seethed, bringing his face directly in front of hers.

_He's always so angry_, she thought with indifference.

"I'll remind you of my response last time," she said, calmly, and retreated to her room.

* * *

><p>Sometime later, there was a knock at the door.<p>

"'Mione? It's Harry. Ron, Wolf and I are leaving now."

He opened the door to see her lying on the bed.

"I have your potion for you," he added.

She sat up and waited for him to come over. She didn't want to speak anymore. It had been a tiring day.

He handed her the small vial and she drank, giving him back the empty bottle when she was done.

Kissing her in the forehead, he whispered goodnight, and tucked the blackets around her as she began to slide into sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry closed the door quietly as he left Hermione's room. She could use the undisturbed rest after having had such a long day. Twirling the bottle in his fingers, walked quietly back to the living room, where Ron, Wolf and the Malfoys were waiting for him.<p>

"Right," he said. "She's asleep now, and you both know where your rooms are. We've told you the drill - you can't leave this house even if you want to. We've got your wands, and the building is enchanted anyway. It's protected by the Fidelius Charm, and it's only connected to the floo with Headquarters and Wolf's lab. Even still, only Ron, Wolf and I are authorized to use the floo. Anyone else will be rerouted back to their starting point unless they are accompanied by one of us."

"Awfully tight security to protect a useless Mudblood, wouldn't you say, Potter?" sneered Malfoy.

Harry saw Ron flinch and he instinctively put out his hand to calm him. Wolf tensed up, glaring at Draco with a menacing stare.

"Hermione's terms," said Harry with a shrug. He knew Malfoy was just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't interested in rewarding him with a reaction. "She's not very trusting."

Malfoy glanced down at the empty bottle in Harry's hand, his mind mulling something over.

"Do you bring her one of those every night?" he asked.

"Ron or myself, yeah."

"You know it's addictive after a while. How long has she been taking a sleeping potion?"

Harry sighed. "Not that it's any of your business, Malfoy, but for about a year and a half."

Malfoy looked angry then. "It's addictive after a couple months of solid use, Potter. Surely you're not stupid enough to forget something so simple."

"We know, you git," seethed Ron.

"So you're just feeding her addiction?"

Harry nodded, looking somewhat defeated.

Malfoy gave him a puzzled glare.

"Why?"

Harry glanced at Ron, trying to decide how much information to give away. Malfoy and his father were living here now... They were bound to figure things out soon enough.

"Let's just say the alternative is much, much worse," Harry said. With a jerk of his head towards the floo, he, Ron and Wolf began to walk towards the fireplace.

Wolf turned around suddenly, looking at both Malfoys with an expression of utter distaste.

"I'm sure you've had this warning from both Harry and Ron, but I'd like to repeat it on my behalf. If anything happens to Hermione while you are here, I will track you down and tear out your stomachs through your throats."

With a curt nod, the tall man stepped into the floo and disappeared in a roar of green flames.

Malfoy and Lucius both had the decency to look surprised.

"She's got quite the fan club," muttered Lucius.

"Yeah," challenged Ron. "She does. We'll be by tomorrow."

He and Harry flooed away, leaving the Malfoys to head back to their new rooms.

* * *

><p>Draco slept surprisingly well. The house was quite large, furnished in a modern style, and almost empty in its minimalism. Not a look he expected Granger to go for, but then, he suspected that Granger wasn't responsible for choosing the house in the first place.<p>

His room had its own bathroom, and he washed up slowly, relishing the space and the quiet. Headquarters was just a messy, noisy disaster with one bathroom for everyone there. It was revolting to be forced to live in such squalor - Granger's place was a definite improvement. Even the manor had become full after a while, as more and more Death Eaters began to stay there and the Malfoys were slowly pushed out. It was a gradual process, and Draco couldn't quite pin down when it had started. It got worse over the year, until it was clear even to him that his family was being rejected from the very group they helped form.

But he didn't want to think about that.

He opened his new closet doors with surprise. There were already clothes in here - men's clothes. Was he supposed to wear these? The quality was good, but the idea of wearing some stranger's clothes made him feel like a pauper. He put on the pants and shirt he'd been given at Headquarters. They weren't his either, he admitted grudgingly, but at least he was used to them by now. He would try on the stranger's clothes another day.

Granger was in the kitchen making breakfast, and his father was seated at the table, looking annoyed.

As his welcome, Draco simply glared at her. She stared blankly back.

He nodded at his father as he sat across from him at the table. To his surprise, a plate of hot food was set down in front of him. His father's annoyed expression disappeared, and he looked at the meal approvingly. It did look tempting; steaming sausages, eggs and potatoes. Draco found himself wondering where the Mudblood had learned to cook like this.

"Anthony left me the house," Granger said out of nowhere, in her expressionless voice.

Draco's head snapped up.

"Must you always answer my questions so bloody long after I've asked them?" he growled.

She shrugged. "Could just not answer them at all," she said, biting down on a pear.

He didn't want that, but he wasn't about to tell her so. Might as well encourage the conversation before she lost her mind again.

"Is Anthony the Healer who trained you?" he asked, gaging her reaction.

She nodded as she took another bite.

"Are those his clothes in my closet?"

She nodded again, chewing.

"Why do Potter or Weasley bring you a sleeping draught every night?" he said, knowing he was pushing it. He saw his father arch an eyebrow at him from across the table.

She stared at him for a while, her eyes dead, but her brow furrowed in thought.

"Security," she eventually answered, evasively. Then she got up, and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Well, I'm impressed. Really great reviews, and a lot of them, too. I love all the detail you guys are putting in... So interesting to see how you're analyzing the story! I'm good on my word; new chapter, and another one waiting in the wings. Review like crazy, and I'll put it up tomorrow! For now: Draco being a Grade A jackass, and a turning point._

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Their first full day in the house, and Draco was already starting to feel it - that twinge in his chest that told him the burning sensation would start up again soon. It stirred mild panic in him, and he glanced at the kitchen clock anxiously.<p>

_5:15 pm_.

"Father, when is the Mudblood supposed to get back from the lab?" he asked, trying to mask his concern. She had been gone since one in the afternoon, and he hadn't really been listening when Potter and Weasley had told him her schedule. If he had realized how helpless he would feel being at the mercy of the curse, he might have listened a little better. At the time he simply hadn't wanted to hear their stupid voices anymore.

Lucius looked up from the book he was reading. Despite the minimal furnishings, Granger had not disappointed when it came to books. She had a large room dedicated to her collection, and Draco was thankful, because it appeared to be the only thing to do around here. He knew his father loved to read too. They could read themselves into oblivion in this bloody prison.

"Six o'clock, I believe," he replied. "Is the curse troubling you?"

Draco nodded. "It's fine. I can wait. That's not too long." He was trying to convince himself. It felt worse today than usual. Much worse.

Lucius looked out out of the window that faced the large backyard. He seemed lost in thought.

"What is it, father?" Draco asked. Lucius tended to guard his thoughts with the ferocity of a rabid dog, but sometimes it was worth testing to see if he was in the mood to share.

Lucius sighed. "Just thinking about how much has changed," he answered.

Draco knew that he was talking about Narcissa, and instinctively pushed her out of his mind. He couldn't think of her right now. He couldn't handle it.

They sat in silence.

* * *

><p>When Hermione stepped out of the floo at exactly 6 pm, Draco was on the couch, sweaty and pale, looking haunted.<p>

To Draco's immense shock, concern flitted over her features.

She didn't say anything, but disappeared into a spare room and came back with her usual potions. She started to mix them directly in front of him and gestured to his chest, again without speaking. He hesitated only for a moment before tearing off his shirt. For some reason, the action seemed more intimate than pulling down a sheet.

She made another vague gesture and he interpreted it accordingly, lying down flat on the couch.

Suddenly her hands were on him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The curse stirred within him, sliding through his blood, up to his lungs and out through his chest, into her small fingers. She dropped the tendrils into the bucket and cleaned off her hands.

"Drink," she said, handing him a bottle.

He obeyed, too exhausted to think up an insult.

The shaking slowed.

She assessed him carefully, searching his face as the potion took effect. He noticed that her eyes held something in them, something different, some sort of emotion. They were a warm brown again, not that empty shade he could never identify. He stared into them, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he expected, staying with her. She did seem to be trying to keep him alive, after all.

She blinked. Seemingly satisfied, she packed up the potions and headed to the kitchen to make dinner.

Draco sat on the couch for a long while, thinking about how much had changed.

* * *

><p>It was Ron who came back that night with Hermione's potion. Draco was reading on the couch when he stepped out of the flames, looking around for her.<p>

"Here to feed the addict?" he sneered.

"Fuck off, you ungrateful sod," Ron replied, evenly. "Where is she?"

"Treating my father in his room," Draco said with a shrug.

Ron took off in the direction of the bedroom, and Draco decided to follow. There was really nothing else to do.

Lucius was lying on the bed, his metal leg leaning up against the frame. Hermione was wrapping the stump in fresh gauze, her hands coated in some sort of ointment.

"Hi 'Mione," said Ron, standing in the doorway. Draco was looking over his shoulder.

She smiled at Ron and tuned back to Lucius.

Draco realized that was only the second time he'd seen her smile since he was rescued.

"You've been standing on it for too long. I don't want it to get infected - please don't walk more than necessary," she said, sternly. Lucius grunted his understanding.

"Cup of tea before you go?" she asked Ron, who nodded. Draco felt annoyed that she didn't offer him anything.

"You too, Malfoy?" she asked, packing up her supplies.

"Uh, no," he said, surprised. Maybe the Mudblood had manners after all.

She looked at Lucius with the silent question. He shook his head.

Draco stayed in the room with his father as Granger and Weasley walked off to the kitchen.

"Strange, isn't she?" said Lucius.

Draco nodded. "She's always been strange. But she's stranger now that she's gone mental."

"What do you suppose did it?" asked his father.

That was the question, really. Draco had been thinking it over, and guessed that it had something to do with the Healer who was killed.

"Not sure," he responded. "But it's changed her. You wouldn't believe how much she used to talk in school. Now she hardly says a word."

Lucius chuckled, and then his expression sobered. He looked out the window next to his bed.

"Your mother used to talk a lot too," he said.

Draco left the room and went to bed, pushing torturous thoughts of his mother's eyes out of his mind.

* * *

><p>The following morning, Draco came across the familiar scene of Hermione cooking breakfast while his father scowled off into the distance.<p>

"Morning Mudblood," he said, sitting down at the table.

She simply arched an eyebrow at him and continued to cook. Minutes later, the two Malfoys had hot plates of food in front of them, this time waffles with cream and berries. Instead of a pear, Hermione actually sat down with a plate of her own.

"Where'd you learn how to cook, Granger?" Draco said, impressed with the spread.

He glanced over, and saw that her eyes were dead again. He shared a look with his father, and decided not to push it this time.

She ate in silence, and then cleared their plates.

As she was getting ready to leave the room, she said, "My parents. They loved to cook. They were killed."

She wandered off to her bedroom, and Draco sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"She's bloody complicated," he muttered.

Lucius smirked, and opened his book at the page he'd marked off.

* * *

><p>Draco was able to hold it together much better that day, and when Hermione came home from the lab, he wasn't a shaking mess. They shared a cup of tea in silence before she treated his chest, and then went to check up on his father.<p>

Seconds after Draco had pulled his shirt back on, Harry came through the floo.

"Malfoy," he nodded. "Hermione is...?"

"A fucking bitch, as always," he responded with a sneer.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "_Where_ is she?"

Draco pointed and Harry left him standing in the living room alone.

* * *

><p>A week later, after much of the same routine, Draco was bored. Hermione set his breakfast plate in front of him, and gave Lucius his own with a cup of tea. He'd been peppering her with mild questions all week, and he figured it was time to pull out the big guns.<p>

"What made you lose your mind Granger?"

She gasped and Lucius choked on his tea.

Draco smirked at her, pleased to see that she was angry.

"What happened to your mother?" she shot back. His smirk dropped off his face.

She left the room, her breakfast untouched.

Lucius glared at him from across the table. "Was that really necessary?"

Draco didn't have an answer. He stood up, furious, and started walking quickly towards Hermione's bedroom. That righteous little swot had no right to bring up his mother, whether or not she had lost her mind. She had _no right_.

"Son..." came his father's warning voice from the kitchen.

Draco ignored him, and threw open her door. She was standing by her window, looking out with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Listen to me, you pathetic, filthy Mudblood," Draco screamed, advancing on her. He was shaking he was so angry. Everything he had been pushing down since his rescue came bubbling to the surface. "Don't you ever speak of my mother again!"

"Why, because you're afraid you might actually have to deal with her death?" she seethed, turning towards him, angrier and more alive than he'd ever seen her.

He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the window, her head smacking against it loudly.

"You know nothing about her," he growled, almost nose-to-nose with her. "You know nothing about me. You are worthless. You will be dead soon, when the Dark Lord has his way."

"Your precious Dark Lord murdered your mother in cold blood," she rasped, tears in her eyes from being thrown against the window. "You're in denial. Accept it and move on. We've all lost people we love in this war."

Draco slammed her against the window again, his fingers digging into her thin shoulders.

"What, because you lost your precious Anthony you think you understand me? You lose one person and your mind breaks? You're fucking weak!"

She looked at him with wide eyes, disbelief colouring her features.

"You think Anthony's death broke me? Or maybe my parents'? Is that really what you think? Oh Malfoy, you are a misguided little boy."

Fury at being taunted coursed through his veins, and he slammed her against the window again, as hard as he could. This time, the glass broke, and she screamed. Blood coated his arms and hands as he looked down at what he had done, still holding onto her shoulders.

A cold dread settled in his stomach.

"Oh my God, Granger..."

She slid down the wall, a trail of blood coating the paint behind her. He could see glass in her hair, embedded in her skin, shards in her neck. She was gasping for air.

_No_. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to get so angry he actually hurt her. He was just supposed to teach her a lesson...

His fingers became slippery with her blood as he held onto her, shocked at what he had done.

"Draco!" hissed Lucius, limping up from behind him. "You imbicile! If she is injured, our bargain is over and we will be delivered to the Dark Lord without a second thought! What have you done to her?" Lucius looked terrified. The scene was a mess of glass and blood, and Hermione was shaking from head to toe while Draco gripped her.

In that moment, Draco realized he didn't want to go back to the Dark Lord. He knew he had been denying the truth, clinging to the hope that he might still be relevant, but the thought of heading back to the manor now made him quake with fear. He wasn't welcome there, Malfoy name or not. He would be torn limb from limb. He would be fed to the snake. He would be burned alive.

They were no longer his people, as hard as that was to accept.

His mother had been killed there. _Murdered_. The woman who raised him, who loved him unconditionally, who protected him right up until she was struck down. Granger was right. The fucking swot was right.

He looked down at the bleeding girl in his arms, and without another word, scooped her up and brought her to the bathtub.

"What are you doing?" his father growled. "She needs help, you idiot, not a fucking bath."

"I'm helping her," he snapped. "I'm going to make this right. Somehow... Somehow..."

He was muttering under his breath now, arranging Granger in the bath so he could get a good look at the damage. There was blood everywhere - how was he supposed to heal her? Even with a wand he was no good at this stuff.

"Get me the ointments that she uses on your leg. And get me the gauze, too," he said, pleading. He felt his father hesitate before limping off to find what he needed.

He steadied her head with his hands, meeting her eyes as tears spilled down her cheeks. Her eyes were a warm brown again, but the emotion they held was something like despair. He felt terrible.

"I'm sorry Granger," he whispered. "Let me fix you. You can toss us out after, but let me try to make this better. You were right. I don't know how to be nice."

She didn't answer, but let her eyes drift shut as he started pulling the broken glass out of her skin as gently as his shaking hands could manage, murmuring his apologies as he worked.

* * *

><p>Hermione didn't go to work that day, and stayed curled up in bed, her wounds bleeding through the gauze.<p>

Draco paced nervously outside her bedroom door, peeking in every few minutes to check on her. He wondered if Potter and Weasley would kill him before the Dark Lord had a chance. He might actually prefer that. Or maybe that Wolfgang fellow would make good on his threat. He seemed capable enough.

Lucius was a wreck, wringing his hands on the couch, his eyes darting anxiously towards his metal leg. Visions of Nagini slithered through his mind. Draco had always had a temper, but this was a grave mistake. Lucius remembered the torture, that dirty basement and the feeling of having his leg torn off. The poison of Nagini's fangs. Draco's screams as invisible flames licked his skin. Narcissa's cold body. The sting of betrayal.

There was no dinner.

Draco and Lucius were in the kitchen now, sick with nerves. It was 9 pm. Somebody was going to come through the floo any second and Hermione was still in the bedroom, covered in blood-soaked gauze.

"I'm sorry, father," Draco said, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have taunted her. I shouldn't have gotten upset."

Lucius ignored him, staring angrily at the table. He had difficulty trusting himself to speak.

"For a Mudblood, she has been very kind to us," he said eventually. "Especially given your history together."

Draco felt even worse. He had never been good with his anger, but this was bad. Very bad. The curse twitched inside of him, as if it sensed that it would be free to roam his body again soon.

The floo roared to life, and Harry walked out. He took one look at the nervous Malfoys and his eyes narrowed.

"Where the fuck is she?" he said, his tone hard as steel.

"Here, Harry," said Hermione's voice. She walked up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Did you want some tea?"

Draco and Lucius both stared at her. She looked as if nothing had happened.

Harry seemed suspicious.

"Wolf said you weren't at work today," he said.

"Wasn't in a good head space," she replied. Draco almost groaned at the double-entendre. _What the fuck is she doing?_

Harry looked at her for another long moment, and then shrugged. "No tea, thanks. I just came to give you your potion."

Hermione nodded, and uncorked the bottle, draining the liquid in a few gulps.

"Thanks," she said.

"I'll walk you to your room," he said with a soft smile.

They left, and Draco looked at Lucius with a disbelieving stare. Neither of them spoke.

Harry came back a minute later, nodded briskly to them, and left by floo.

Draco got up quickly and ran to Hermione's room.

"Granger?" he said at the door. Opening it, he found her tucked into bed, all the blood vanished and the window repaired. It looked as if nothing had happened, as though he hadn't slammed her violently against the glass. Her eyes were half closed, but she was still awake.

He sat down on the edge of her bed and observed her. Looking closely, he could see that she had repaired many of the wounds herself and applied glamour charms to the others. She must have done it in a hurry after noticing the time. She had saved him.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered sleepily. "Don't make me explain it." And then she drifted off.

He sat there for another ten minutes, watching her sleep, wondering why she had spared him. Why she had spared his father.

Draco fell asleep in the fetal postition that night, thinking of his mother, her elegant smile and her soft eyes haunting his dreams. He missed her so much. He mourned her, finally, letting his tears soak into his pillow until the light of dawn lulled him to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Ooooh, you guys win. You are reviewing superstars. Another chapter, as promised, and it's a big one. You'll get a brand spanking new one tomorrow too if you keep this up! Review, darlings! Without further ado: Draco continues to morph, and we find out a little more about Hermione._

_xo_

_Galfoy _

* * *

><p>When Draco woke up, his first thought was <em>Granger<em>. Then he shuddered and cursed himself for thinking of her so quickly. Yes, he was grateful that she hadn't sold them up the river for what he had done, but he would not, _could not_ start thinking about her with anything other than disdain. She was still a Mudblood. He was still himself. No act of kindness would change that. He would not start feeling concerned about her.

_Granger_.

He got out of bed angrily and splashed water on his face. His pale eyes stared back at him in the mirror, daring him to acknowledge what he wanted to do.

He wanted to make sure she was okay.

He just wanted to check.

_Granger_.

Draco stalked down the hall towards her room, feeling increasingly agitated with every step. _This is stupid. It's not my job to worry about her_.

The door was already open, and he looked in.

No Granger, just a freshly-made bed.

He let out a deep breath.

Hermione was already in the kitchen, making breakfast. His father was at the table, reading another book. She looked up when he walked in the room. He saw the bruises around the sealed cuts, the redness on her neck, and cringed inwardly. The glamour charms had expired.

Their eyes met, and for a brief second, Draco felt forgiveness slide across her features. He stared, unsure, feeling like a bundle of nerves. He had _assaulted_ her. Why was she doing this? Why was she giving him a chance? She was so _fucking confusing_.

Breaking their gaze, she looked down and continued to cook, so he seated himself and waited in awkward silence.

When she served his father breakfast, Draco saw Lucius smile at her. Not a malicious smile, and not a smirk. Just an expression of gratitude.

Draco felt momentarily jealous of his father's courage.

Breakfast was laid before him and they ate without speaking.

"I'll need to look at your leg today," she said suddenly, her fork halfway to her mouth. She wasn't actually looking at Lucius, but he nodded anyway, and turned another page of his book.

She finished her meal and cleared the table.

"Thank you," Draco said as she took his plate. He wasn't sure what he was thanking her for, but it seemed important to say it. He wanted to make sure she knew. He was thankful. For everything.

She looked surprised for a moment, and then smiled at him. Turning away, she started on the dishes.

_She smiled. At me_.

He felt flushed and uncomfortable, and bolted from the room, determined to immerse himself in a book for the day. Anything to keep his mind off the way her lips looked when they quirked upwards. Almost like the old Granger, the one who was always laughing. He wondered if she would ever laugh again.

Draco growled to himself. He couldn't think about her anymore.

* * *

><p>"Granger, I don't want to read any of the books you have," Draco complained an hour later. The library was full of curious texts, stories, historical tomes, but nothing piqued his interest today. He had stayed in there for ages, flipping through page after page, getting increasingly frustrated, before he decided to bother her about it. There was really nothing else to do.<p>

She looked at him from her spot on the couch where she was checking Lucius's bandage.

"And?"

Draco huffed in annoyance. He was bored, and since he wasn't going to risk taunting her today, he needed to find something to occupy his time. She would leave for work soon and then he'd be even more restless.

Hermione looked him over and then pointed to one of the kitchen cupboards.

"There's a wizard's chess set in there. You can play it with your father if you want."

Draco's ears perked up. He hadn't played wizard's chess in years.

"What, you don't play, Granger?" he smirked.

She shook her head and went back to checking his father's leg. "Nope. Never got the hang of it."

"Hold on," he said. "Do you mean to say there's something Hermione Granger isn't good at?" Although it came out as a sneer, he realized too late that it was actually a compliment.

"And flying," she said, her face carefully blank. "I'm shite at flying. It's the heights, you know."

Without another word, she packed up her supplies and left the room.

Lucius observed Draco for a moment.

"Decided on civility, have you?"

Draco hadn't really decided that, but it occurred to him that it might be worth trying after all. Civility wasn't friendliness. It wasn't affection. It wasn't loyalty. It was just operating with slightly less venom than normal. He could manage that.

He shrugged. "Can't hurt, I suppose. We are stuck here, after all."

"Why do you suppose she did that?" Lucius said, looking puzzled, staring off in the direction of Hermione's room. He was obviously referring to the fact that they were very nearly handed back to the Death Eaters only hours before. "We'd be dead right now otherwise."

Lucius was, like his son, perplexed by the incident. Hermione had been badly injured; Lucius watched in horror while Draco picked piece after piece of glass out of her skin, her hair, her skull. The bathtub was smeared with blood when it was done, and Draco had clumsily wrapped her up as best he could, murmuring terrified apologies under his breath. Both Malfoys had expected to die. She hadn't said a word to contradict their belief.

Then she went and spared them, without any elaboration or explanation. She hadn't lorded it over them or listed any terms for blackmail. In short, she was not behaving like anyone they knew.

Hermione Granger was strange, Lucius affirmed to himself. Victim of a mental breakdown, certainly, locked in a bizarre dream world where she occasionally just checked out of normality and stopped talking.

But lately she had been less and less distracted. Almost chatty, considering how she had been beforehand. She took good care of both Malfoys, and didn't seem to resent the work. They were always well fed. Her house ended up being a bit of a refuge for all of them, in one way or another.

"I have no idea," said Draco quietly, bringing Lucius out of his thoughts. "I don't understand her."

Both men were still for a minute, before Draco said, "Fancy a game of wizard's chess?"

* * *

><p>One week later, Draco offered to teach Hermione the game.<p>

"I'm bad at it," she declined, dropping the black strings of the curse into her usual bucket and taking her hands off his exposed chest. The bucket was halfway full now, swimming with a black substance that looked like crude oil. It made Draco's skin crawl just to look at it.

"I'm a good teacher," he responded, wishing for a fleeting moment that she would put her hands back on him. He tried not to think about why. It was comfortable. He was used to it now. That was all.

"Ron tried. I still never got it." She wiped her wands and took a cloth to his chest, cleaning off the red potion. He liked that she was always so thorough. No shortcuts.

"Weasley's a fucking tosser. I can teach you properly."

Her fingers brushed his ribs and he shivered.

"Put on your shirt," she said. "You're cold."

He didn't bother to correct her.

* * *

><p>A week after that, she finally agreed.<p>

"I don't understand why you're pushing this," she said, annoyed.

Hermione hadn't noticed that she had started displaying emotion more regularly, but Draco had. Even passing annoyance was better than her dead eyes. He relished it every time she let a smile slip, or an aggravated frown, or a thoughtful gaze... It reminded him of how she used to be.

"Granger, I'm doing you a favour. I know it must kill you not to be good at something."

She rolled her eyes and then cracked a smile, walking to the kitchen to get the game.

Draco caught his father's eye, and Lucius raised an eyebrow at him.

Okay, so maybe two people had noticed that she'd started displaying emotion.

* * *

><p>Two weeks later, Ron and Harry were injured on a mission, and didn't come back to Headquarters as planned. In the confusion, nobody in the Order remembered to tell Hermione. The strange trio sat in the living room, trying to ignore her anxious glances towards the fireplace.<p>

"Granger, stop staring at the floo," Draco snapped. "They'll come by. They come by every night."

She sighed. "You're right. They're just not usually this late. I worry." She fiddled with her hands. Draco noticed that they were trembling.

_Ah yes, the addiction_.

Lucius looked up from his book and observed her for a minute.

"If you'd like to go lie down, we can direct them to your room when they arrive. I'm sure they will be here soon."

He said it in such a kind tone that Draco was startled. What was his father playing at? Hermione didn't notice the difference though, and nodded agitatedly.

"Okay. Thank you. I'll just be in my room."

After she left, Draco arched an eyebrow at his father and said, "Decided on civility, have you?"

Lucius ignored him, and turned another page in his book.

"You're going to read through her entire collection at this rate, father."

"Not a concern. She orders more by post every week. Haven't you noticed?"

He had, but he didn't want to admit how often he watched her when nobody else was looking.

* * *

><p>Another hour passed and Draco shared a look with Lucius.<p>

"They're not coming. Do you think they were killed?"

"For her sake, I hope not," Lucius replied, dryly. "I don't think her mind could take it."

"I should go check on her," Draco said, and before his father could protest, got up and walked towards her bedroom.

He cracked open the door to find her asleep on the bed in her clothes, curled up in a ball, her hair covering her face.

Without thinking, he walked over and gently moved the hair out of her eyes.

"You confuse me, Granger," he whispered.

Carefully covering her in a blanket, and walked back out of the roon, wondering when he'd started enjoying her company.

* * *

><p>He woke up hours later to the sound of tortured screaming.<p>

Both he and his father ran into the hallway at the same time, looking around frantically for an intruder.

The screams were coming from Hermione's room. Draco threw open the door in a panic.

Hermione was on her bed, her terrified eyes open, seeing something that nobody else could. She had thrown off the blanket and was wedged in the corner, sobbing hysterically and pulling at her hair. She let out another scream that made Draco's ears hum with pain.

"Granger!" he shouted.

Her eyes were wide, but stared right through him as she continued to scream. She started running her nails down her arms, pressing so hard she drew blood.

"Save them!" she shrieked, sobbing harder.

"Night terrors," whispered Lucius beside him. "But I've never seen anything like this."

"Granger, wake up!" Draco shouted, realizing with delayed clarity why Potter and Weasley were so diligent about maintaining her addiction. _Fuck_, why didn't they show up? Couldn't they have chosen another day to disappear?

Instead of responding, she bolted from the bed and knocked both men over as she ran out of the room, howling with fear.

Draco ran after her and found her in the kitchen. She was holding a large butcher's knife, looking possessed.

"Granger, calm down," he said, hoping he sounded confident. He heard his father limp up behind him.

"Merlin, she's dangerous, Draco," he breathed. "She doesn't even know it's us."

Hermione had started to growl, slicing the air with the knife. Her face was shining with tears and her arms were dripping with blood.

"Somebody has to save them," she whispered, advancing on them.

"Granger, it's just us... Draco and Lucius... We live with you, Granger. You know us. Put down the - "

She lunged.

The tip of the knife caught Draco's forearm, and he hissed with pain as he wrestled the knife out of her hands. She struggled violently, kicking and biting, screaming as though she was being tortured.

Wrenching the knife away, he handed it to his father and roughly picked up the shrieking woman. His arm was cut, but it was a small enough wound, and he ignored it. He wouldn't bleed out, at any rate.

"Hide this. I'll subdue her."

Lucius needed no encouragement, and limped away.

Hermione was bawling now, her small hands opening and closing as she sobbed into his chest. Draco felt his heart twitch as she pressed her face against his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She felt so fragile.

"Fuck Granger, you could have warned me you turn into a monster at night," he murmured against her head. "You could have really hurt yourself." _Or me_, he added mentally, wondering why he didn't say that part out loud.

He walked over to the couch, cradling her in his arms, and sat down with her in his lap.

"Can't even bloody well leave you alone now," he muttered. "You'd just as soon stab me through the heart. What am I supposed to do with you, silly girl?"

She continued to cry as though she hadn't heard him, and he wasn't even sure she was awake yet. He tightened his arms around her with a sigh, and noticed that she quieted slightly at the gesture.

Her sobs got quieter and quieter, until she was eventually hiccupping against his chest. Draco was trying hard not to move, keeping his arms tightly wrapped, and pushing down his desire to comfort her any further. It would be too easy to stroke her back or bring her even closer to him. He couldn't let himself do that; she was off bounds. Drastically off bounds. In every way.

Eventually her breaths started to slow.

"What did this to you, Granger?" Draco said, quietly, resting his chin on the top of her head. She smelled like jasmine. He supposed he had noticed that already, but he never put a name to the scent. Jasmine would always smell like Granger to him now.

He looked down for a response, but she was already asleep.

Slowly, he let himself drift off, marvelling at the strange sensation of holding her body against his.

* * *

><p>Hermione cracked open her right eye and knew something was horribly wrong.<p>

Her own arm was the first thing she saw, and it was covered in bloody scratches. She knew what those scratches meant. She had fallen asleep without her potion. She could be anywhere right now. She used to run all night before Harry and Ron started warding her room, eventually settling on the potion as the best way to keep her calm.

Clearly, she hadn't run all night. She recognized her couch and the pieces of wall that were slowly coming into focus. She was still in her house, thank Merlin.

She was also sitting on someone. There were arms around her and a blanket tucked around her waist. Her head was on someone's chest. The person was asleep, if their heavy breathing was any indication.

Hermione willed herself not to scream.

_Who is holding me?_

The embrace was firm and affectionate, the person's fingertips resting on her ribs, the other hand cradling her head. Perhaps Harry or Ron had come by in the middle of her episode and had stayed with her to keep everyone safe. She hoped that was the right explanation, but as she took a deep breath, her stomach sank.

Harry always smelled like clean laundry. Even days into a mission, he smelled like lemon detergent and fresh air. It was trademark Harry - Hermione could bet her life on it.

Ron smelled like grass and the sweet soap Molly always bought. He had smelled that way since the day she met him and she knew it would never change.

Whoever was holding her smelled like rich sandalwood. Unless Harry and Ron had drastically changed their grooming, she was probably not being held by either of them.

This left Wolfgang, who smelled like rosemary, much to her surprise, or one of the Malfoys.

Sandalwood. That _had_ to be a Malfoy thing. It just fit.

_Oh no_.

She was being held by one of the Death Eaters she was charged with taking care of. And she was going to guess that if she was being held this tightly, there was a chance she had gotten violent last night and needed to be restrained.

The likelihood of Lucius chasing her down and grabbing her seemed slim, only because he'd never really gotten used to walking on his new leg.

_That meant..._

Carefully, she pulled her head back slightly and saw a bloody gash on the arm that was wrapped around her.

All her worries about who was holding her left her mind, and she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"I hurt you!"

Scrambling, she fell backwards onto the floor, scooting away from Draco's body as she realized what she had done.

"I hurt you... Oh, Merlin, I hurt you..."

Draco's eyes had snapped open and he tried to grab her before she hit the ground, but his reflexes were shot from exhaustion.

"Granger, it's okay... It's not a big - " he had started to say, but she was slipping into hysterics.

"What did I do? Was it a knife again? Jesus, I can't even trust myself not to hurt anyone..."

She heard uneven footsteps and saw Lucius approaching from the hallway.

"Did I hurt you too?" she sobbed.

"I assure you, both myself and Draco are fine. We are far more concerned about your well-being," he said, sternly. Although Lucius sounded authoritative and firm, Draco could see the worry in his eyes though, slipping past his usual emotional barricade. "We didn't realize that you had night terrors. You should have told us."

"I thought Harry and Ron would come..." she said, and then her eyes widened when she realized what that meant. "Oh my God, they never came!"

She started to hyperventilate in front of them, and Draco looked at his father helplessly. It was one thing to hold and comfort her when she was in an altered state. It was quite another to do so when she was lucid. But she had just realized that Harry and Ron might be injured, or worse, and Draco didn't know how to talk her down from her rapidly escalating panic attack.

"Granger, please just listen..."

Hermione's eyes started to glaze over and Draco swore.

"She's gone into her fucking trance again," he growled.

"Well, we can't leave her lying here, son," said Lucius, pinching the bridge of his nose with an aggravated sigh. "Put her on the bed and we'll try to find out if her friends are dead."

Draco swore again and stomped over to where she lay, her eyes dead and her face blank.

"Damnit Granger, you're going to be the death of me."

Scooping her up, he marched to her bedroom, leaving his father to work the floo and try to contact Headquarters.

Once inside the door, away from his father's eyes, he was much more gentle with her. He placed her on the bed and smoothed out her hair. He searched her bathroom for a facecloth and ran it under warm water, bringing it back to wipe her face and arms. He placed a pillow under her head.

Sitting beside her, watching her lifeless eyes stare at the ceiling he realized something.

When she had woken up, she was upset that he was hurt. It was her first reaction.

Not that she woke up on his lap, in his arms. The arms of a Death Eater, her childhood enemy, and the same person who slammed her through a window weeks earlier.

She was upset that he was hurt.

Draco let out a soft groan, and pulled himself away from her bed. He didn't know what this meant, but it meant _something_.

He closed the door behind him, wishing everything was less complicated.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_I'm so happy you guys are liking it! Your reviews are making me blush (and giggle... y'all are witty). I was a bit nervous about this story... The Boy in the Hammock was all "This is funny! More funniness!" and I was like "Yeaaaaah, Imma write some angst." So thank you for being awesome about that. I'm taking my time building up their relationship... Hope you can handle a slow tease. (Come on, I know you love it)_

_Reviews = another chapter tomorrow. Bring it._

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>"They're injured, not dead," Lucius said when Draco walked back into the living room. "The Order certainly wasn't happy to see my face floating out of the floo, but when I explained the... Situation... They were more accommodating."<p>

Draco pushed down his unreasonable anger at the two idiots for getting injured when Granger needed them.

"How is she?" his father asked.

"Unresponsive," he replied. "I hate to say this, but I think we had better learn how to make our own food for the next little while. She's deep into it. Doesn't seem to hear anything at all."

Lucius grunted, clearly annoyed.

"Those two friends of hers need a backup plan in the event of their absence. They were clearly aware of her condition. Some warning would have been nice - she could have killed us. She certainly injured you."

Draco looked down at his arm. The cut was deeper than he remembered, but it seemed unimportant given the mess that Granger was in. Cuts could heal. He shrugged.

"Security," he said, suddenly, and snorted. "Remember what she said? When I asked her why she took the potion every night? I was trying to get her to admit her addiction, but instead she said 'security.' Bloody hell. I wonder what else she's done during a night terror. Probably scared the snot out of Potter and Weasley."

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar, and Wolfgang stepped out of the floo, clearly upset.

"Is she alright?" he asked, his hands clenched. Both Malfoys noticed the extreme tension of the man's shoulders, jaw, overall demeanor. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"She's in her room, in one of her states," said Lucius, cooly.

"Was she hurt? Did she hurt anyone?"

Draco held up his arm so Wolfgang could see the cut, and said "She's a bit scratched up, but she'll be fine. We took the knife away from her before she could do any real damage."

Wolfgang let out a breath. "I'm grateful. She... She's been through a lot."

Without further explanation, he left in the direction of her room.

Lucius furrowed his brow in thought. Draco could tell he was deciding how to phrase his next statement.

"The ones who care about her appear to care about her quite deeply," he said, eventually.

Draco pushed down the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, remembering the feeling of her small body in his arms, her arms around his neck, her face pressed into his chest.

As if his father had read his thoughts, Lucius turned to him and said, "It would be best if we didn't let ourselves get too attached to her, Draco. You know as well as I that she is a target of the Dark Lord. That aside, even if she survives, we could never be compatible with... Her kind."

Draco didn't respond. He got the message all too strongly. He felt strangely nauseous about it.

"Son, tell me you understand me."

"Of course," he snapped, angrily. "You don't want us getting friendly with a Mudblood. I'm not stupid, father."

Lucius didn't seem to be very happy with the situation, but Draco wasn't sure why. He got what he wanted - Draco's word not to get close to Granger. It was infuriating... How could he avoid warming up to her a bit? How could either of them? She was a fucking enigma, but there was no denying her quiet appeal. Even his father had softened towards her, no matter how much he might deny it.

"She is certainly very kind to us," Lucius said, absently. "It's a pity about her blood."

He left Draco in the living room to go inspect the kitchen for something edible.

Draco stayed in front of the fireplace, trying to calm his furious pulse before he followed.

* * *

><p>They ate stale muffins with tea.<p>

Lucius glared at his plate and picked at the food half-heartedly.

"I hope she feels better soon. I've gotten used to her cooking," he said.

* * *

><p>Hermione stayed in her room all day, staring up with dead eyes. Draco checked on her frequently, but she gave no indication that she saw him.<p>

"I may not be allowed to be friends with you, Granger, but I still want you to get better," he said, awkwardly, sitting beside her on the bed. "Don't worry about the cut on my arm. It's nothing. It's healing quickly. I know you didn't mean it."

She blinked, and Draco sighed, leaving her alone again.

* * *

><p>At 9pm, the floo roared to life. Harry and Ron stumbled out. Draco and Lucius looked up from their reading, surprised at the intrusion.<p>

They were both heavily bandaged, but appeared to be healthy enough. Ron had a nasty black eye.

"Wolf said you were hurt," Harry said, glaring at Draco.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Don't pretend you care, Potter. It's a shallow cut. I'll be fine. She's in her room if you want to see her."

They left to find Hermione without another word.

Half an hour later, they returned.

"She's in a pretty bad state," said Ron, frowning. "Was it triggered by the night terror?"

"No," snapped Draco. "It was triggered when she realized you two morons didn't show up and drew the obvious conclusion."

Pained guilt crossed both Harry and Ron's faces.

"Fuck," said Ron. "She thought we had died. How long do you think it will take for her to start talking again?" he asked, turning to Harry.

"It was months last time," Harry replied with a heavy sigh. "We'll just have to see. Malfoy, I don't know if she'll be able to keep up your treatments or not. We may have to send someone else to try it if she can't."

Draco grimaced. He only needed treatments every second day now, so he wasn't desperate yet, but the thought of some random Order member putting their hands on his bare chest was repulsive.

"I thought nobody else knew how," he said.

"Nobody else does, not as well as Hermione, but it's better we try than to have it take over your body again," Harry said with a shrug.

Draco simply grunted. He wanted Granger to look after him. Only Granger. He was used to her.

"We'll have mum send over some food," said Ron, eyeing the crumbled remnants of their breakfast on the kitchen table. "Don't know when Hermione will start cooking again."

Lucius sneered as the two men left by floo.

"If I have to subsist on a Weasley's cooking, I swear to Merlin I'll go back to the Dark Lord myself."

* * *

><p>The following day, an Order member named Rose came through the floo with Harry and Ron.<p>

"Malfoy, Rose is going to try and do your treatment. She's had some Healer training, and she's familiar with the potions Hermione uses," said Ron. He had slightly fewer bandages on, but his black eye was as puffy as ever.

Rose looked extremely anxious. She seemed to be about the same age as Draco, but she was very petite, her mousy brown hair chopped off at the chin, awkwardly framing her skinny face. Her eyes were darting around the room.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her. _This_ was Granger's replacement? The girl looked like she was about to pass out from nerves.

He saw his father smirk as he pretended to read his latest book.

With a shrug, Draco took off his shirt and lay down on the couch, the way Granger liked.

"Go on then," he snapped, and the girl almost yelped with fright.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We're going to see 'Mione. Don't frighten the poor girl, Malfoy." He left with Ron.

Rose inched closer to Draco, her hands shaking as she set out the potions. Draco resisted the urge to growl at her.

"O-okay," she stuttered. "I'm just going to - "

"You don't have to explain, just fucking do it," Draco snarled. He hated this simpering flower of a girl. Even a brain-damaged Granger had more grace than she did.

Her potion was thinner than Granger's, and when she smeared it on his chest, it ran all over the couch.

"You fucking idiot, you've ruined the couch!" he snapped. Rose whimpered and pressed her hands onto his chest, beginning the incantation in a shaky voice.

She was only able to pull a few strands out before Draco lost his cool and told her to bugger off. The treatment was enough to hold him for a while, even if it was a woefully inadequate impression of Granger's skill.

Lucius's smirk only grew as the girl ran into the floo, clutching her bag of potions, her lower lip trembling.

"You haven't lost your touch, son," he said.

"She's a shitty Healer," he replied. "Granger could run circles around her."

Lucius didn't respond, and turned another page in his book.

* * *

><p>Draco went to visit Hermione that night after Harry and Ron left.<p>

"Hi Granger," he said, perching on the edge of the bed. "Just thought you'd want to know that they have some moronic female Order member doing my care now. She's a complete dunce."

Hermione's eyes were closed. Maybe she was asleep. Her hand rested close to his and he wondered what would happen if he touched her fingers.

"She ruined your couch, too. Maybe you can fix it with your wand when you get better."

He touched his index finger to hers, and then traced along each finger, slowly and carefully. Nobody had to know he was doing this. Nobody had to know anything.

"My father doesn't want me to get too close to you, but I think he's full of shite. You're not bad when it comes down to it. Even my father likes you. He just worries because of... Because of the blood thing."

He smoothed his hand over hers. Her skin was so soft. Nobody had to know.

"I used to worry about that. Not so much anymore. You're different than I expected." He was whispering now, worried Lucius was listening at the door. "I'm not saying I want... Anything... With you... I just want to be friendly. But we're too different, I suppose."

Draco sighed to himself. Everything was fucked up. He wanted to be friends with the Mudblood. He had just said it out loud, and it was the stupid truth.

"We used to be something, you know. My family. Now I don't know what we are. Nearly extinct, I guess."

He rubbed his thumb across her wrist. Every part of her was soft.

"I heard Potter and Weasley say you tried to off yourself. I hope that's not true, but if it is, I hope you don't do it anymore. I know what it's like to lose hope... But it's not so awful here. This is worth living for, right? You've got a lot of decent things in your life. People really care about you. Not everyone has that."

With a sigh, he gave her hand a squeeze and stood up.

"Weasley and Potter say it will be months before you're back to normal, but they're idiots. I know you'll bounce back from this. I sure as fuck hope you do, anyway, because they've got us eating that Weasley woman's cooking. And Granger, if I have to suffer through another treatment with that nightmare of a Healer, I think I might just let the curse take over again. She has clammy hands."

He walked out of the room feeling worse than he did before he went to see her. Everything seemed so much more dire coming out of his mouth.

He slept restlessly while the curse shifted around inside him.

* * *

><p>Two days later, he was a quaking mess.<p>

"I don't care if she's scared of him, he needs a Healer!" Lucius was shouting into the floo. "The curse is gaining strength again. If she had done a better job, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

Draco was barely listening, curled up in the fetal position on the couch, sweaty and pale. Waves of burning pain were rising in his blood - nothing like the night Granger had left him, but enough to make him terrified it would get worse.

Rose stumbled through the floo several minutes later, carrying her potions and looking warily at Draco. Lucius crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Please take your shirt off," she said in a squeaky voice as she mixed the potions. Draco tore it off and lay down, his body jerking against his will.

She began the incantation and Draco waited for the relief.

Nothing happened.

"What the fuck..." he rasped.

"I... I don't know what's wrong..." she said. Concentrating, she started the incantation again.

"Maybe I mixed the potion incorrectly..." she began, looking puzzled.

"You fucking worthless excuse for a Healer!" Draco yelled hoarsely. "I'm burning up and you can't even get the goddamn potion right? You're a useless, pitiful - "

"That's enough, Malfoy," said Hermione's voice. "Rose, go back to Headquarters please. I'll be able to do his care now."

Rose shot Hermione a shocked and grateful look. She literally ran into the floo.

"Granger!" Draco croaked. "Thank Merlin."

Hermione walked up beside him. She looked pale and weak, but her eyes were alive with anger.

"You were a complete arse to her," she snapped. "Lie down properly."

He shifted into position quickly, overwhelmed with relief at seeing her face. He didn't even mind being bossed around. It was so distinctly Granger, it was almost comforting.

She sniffed the girl's potion and crinkled her nose. After making some adjustments, she smeared it on Draco's chest and began the incantation.

That same strange feeling bubbled up in his blood as she pulled the curse out of him, but there was something else there.

It was her hands. He loved the feeling of her hands on him. His pulse sped up. He almost groaned at the sensation, but bit it back.

"You'll need a lot more treatment now," she said. "It's gotten stronger again."

Draco found himself saying a small 'thank you' to the Gods for that. Her palms pressed against him, her fingertips resting near his collarbone. He wanted to cover her hands with his own.

_You can't_, he chastised himself. _You promised you'd keep your distance_.

He looked up and saw Lucius frowning at him. Instead of reading into it, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the last few minutes of Granger's soft hands on his skin. He never wanted to see that other fucking Healer again.

Eventually she pulled away.

"You're okay," Draco said, staring at her in awe. Now that the pain was gone, he was able to see how incredible that was.

"We were very worried about you, Miss Granger," said Lucius, eyeing her carefully. Draco resisted the urge to sneer at his father. Lucius _did_ like her. There was genuine concern in his voice. What a hypocrite.

"I'm sorry I worried you," she said with a soft smile. "It was easier to bounce back this time, for some reason."

Draco wondered uncomfortably if she used the words "bounce back" by coincidence, or because she had heard him talking the other night. Because if she had heard him say that, she heard him say a lot more too.

"Have either of you eaten?" she asked. They shook their heads no.

She stood up and walked to the kitchen, rifling though the cupboards to prepare a late dinner.

Draco avoided his father's eyes and walked to his bedroom. He could use a cold shower before he went out there again. The memory of her hands was doing strange, wonderful things to him.

* * *

><p>They had a quiet dinner, and Draco paid extra attention to the way his father treated Hermione. Lucius smiled at her twice. He refilled her water without her asking. He thanked her for the meal.<p>

After she retreated to her room, Draco caught his father's guilty eyes.

"You're a lousy fucking actor," he sneered.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," said Lucius, wiping imaginary dust off his sleeve.

Draco snorted. "You care about her! You want to be her friend!" he hissed. "Don't even bother to deny it. You know what, father? I don't give a rat's arse if you do, but then don't feed me that tripe about not getting attached to her. She may not be a Pureblood, but as you may have noticed, she is the only person who has given us the time of day since our rescue. Everyone else would rather see us dead - on both sides. If you're allowed to be friendly to her, then so am I."

Lucius returned Draco's glare. "Just how friendly do you want to get with her, son? She's quite pretty, you know. The way you look at her hasn't escaped my attention."

"Oh please," Draco scoffed. "I'm not looking to sully the bloodline. I wouldn't stoop that low. I just don't see why we can't treat her the way she treats us - nicely. The girl attacked us with a knife and then felt badly about it... Surely you realize how rare a reaction that is?"

Lucius smirked at the joke. "Yes, perhaps I see your point. It is nice to have an ally, even if she is of questionable blood status. We can be friendly to her, if you wish."

Draco let his shoulders relax. He was relieved at his father's words - it was getting harder and harder for him to cover up his lack of hatred towards their hostess.

"But son, I don't want this getting beyond the realm of friendship, you understand? You will not destroy hundreds of years of perfect breeding just because a Mudblood is being kind to us."

His shoulders tensed up again. He was starting to dislike that word. But if those were the terms, fine. He didn't want more than friendship anyways. He didn't.

The memory of her hands slipped into his brain, and he pushed it out with a scowl.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_YOU GUYS. I've finally figured out the ending to this story. I know, I know... This is only Chapter 7 and we've got at least ten more to go, but I've been agonizing about it. This is the stuff that keeps me up at night. One word for you: TWIST. I hope you'll love it. __In other news, your reviews continue to be the epitome of awesomeness. I'm uploading this chapter several hours early as a thank you. Keep them coming; stuff really starts to move soon... The next chapter is a big one. I know you're all dying to hear about what happened to Hermione, but we still have to wait a bit for that. Eventually, all will become clear. It's, uh, kinda horrifying. On that cheerful note... Happy reading!_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Hermione sat in her room trying to figure out why she was able to function. It didn't make sense. Her previous breakdowns had left her in a useless state for weeks, sometimes months, forcing out the occasional word or short phrase. Now it was just a matter of days, and she really <em>felt<em> this time. She was able to converse. She could heal beyond the basic auto-pilot motions she had memorized. What had changed?

She had slid into her mind after having the night terror, after finding out that Harry and Ron didn't show up. The possibility of their deaths jolted her system and sent her spiralling inward. Just like last time, she was wallowing in that fuzzy dream state where she was only minutely aware of what was going on around her. It was like being under water. It was also like being paralyzed. She floated there, wondering vaguely how long it would be until the fog cleared.

But she picked up more detail than usual. That was the first sign that things were different this time. Something in her mind had changed. There was no detail before - just muted sounds, fuzzy faces, the occasional bout of lucidity.

She knew Draco had placed her on the bed with peculiar kindness.

She knew Wolf had come to see her, fretting over her and stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words into her ear... The way a lover would, not a friend. Certainly not an employer. It puzzled her, even in that state. Maybe she had missed something. Had Wolf always looked at her like that?

She knew Harry and Ron eventually came by. Relief registered somewhere in her brain, but she couldn't break out of her trance to tell them how worried she had been.

Lucius popped his head in and told her she was missed around the house. He kept looking over his shoulder as he spoke, as though he was worried about getting caught. Who was going to catch him? Draco? If he only knew.

Draco the chameleon. Dropping in on her to say hello. Telling her about Molly's food, or about Rose's healing. Telling her he wanted to be friends. Saying he was having doubts about blood status. Telling her he didn't blame her for the night terror.

Touching her hand. Washing her face and arms. Tracing her fingers.

Being so incredibly gentle.

And even in her state, she remembered the fact that she had woken up on his lap. Wrapped in his arms. He may be surly and arrogant, but he certainly wasn't the looming testament of hate he used to be.

It was like a coffee percolator, she decided. All these little details filtering down into the caffeinated slew that was her consciousness. Poking her awake. Telling her that people needed her. Draco's face sliding in and out of her mind, his fingers tracing her fingers. Around the index, around the middle, around the ring... It was such an innocent yet intimate act.

And then he was telling her she could snap out of this. Like he really believed it. He tended to say things as if there was no room for argument.

Somewhere in the fog, her mind agreed.

The next thing she was aware of was his frantic whimpers echoing down the hall as the curse gained strength. Her ears picked up the sounds easily at first, and she guessed he was in his bedroom. Then he moved to the living room and she could just barely hear him gasping for air. Worry permeated the fog. She knew what that curse was doing to him. Someone had to help.

_Drip, drip, drip_. Her consciousness was being prodded awake. _Up you get_.

Suddenly, she was sitting up in bed, and Rose was squeaking instructions in the next room. Draco was angry and rude, but that was Draco.

It was enough to bring Hermione back. Not like her old self from school - far from it - but she was able to function and chat and get angry at Draco for being a complete arse. She would take the small victories as they came.

_Okay_, Hermione thought. _Maybe Harry and Ron were right. Taking care of the Malfoys is helping me cope, helping me function_.

It was encouraging and slightly amazing to think that those two difficult men might be pushing along her recovery. She couldn't deny it though... They certainly made her feel needed.

But what was she to do with all these new details?

Behind closed doors, Wolf had behaved as if he was in love with her. At work, he was friendly and kind, checking up on her fairly often but giving her as much space as she wanted. He'd never displayed a great deal of emotion, and she'd never considered the possibility that he might want to be more than just a friend or an employer.

This put her in a difficult position. He would assume that she wouldn't remember his behaviour, and it was an understandable conclusion. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't. Except that she did this time, and it was going to be hard to pretend otherwise. She was puzzled - he was a handsome, influential man. What could he possibly want with a girl whose brain was broken?

Lucius was a curious one. Pretending to be cold and distant with her, warning Draco away from becoming close, when in reality he was just as concerned as everyone else. Hermione guessed that he was stuck between two governing impulses: one, so far dominant, telling him to reject her because of her blood. The other, slowly gaining strength, telling him to move beyond his blood prejudice and treat her like a proper ally. One day, he might consider treating her like an equal. It was a big _maybe_, but it was there.

Then there was Draco. Hermione had noticed his lessening vitriol over the past month or so, and hadn't reached a conclusion about it. Sure, he still whipped out the predictable Mudblood taunt, but he also appeared to like her company and even occasionally struck up a conversation that didn't end in an insult. He had been teaching her chess with more patience than she had ever thought possible. He had even started giving her backhanded compliments.

More small victories.

But those actions didn't really hit home until the night terror. Looking after her the way he did, and then his unguarded comments in her bedroom, painted a completely different picture than the Draco Malfoy she had known for so long.

He was a strange one.

Hermione glanced down at her hands and noticed that she had been absent-mindedly tracing her fingers in the same manner Draco had done.

_Draco_.

When on earth did she refer to him that way in her thoughts? This whole situation was too bloody bizarre. And of course, he didn't know that she remembered everything he said. It would probably make him defensive, so she would keep it to herself for now. She would try not to think of his fingers tracing hers.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she decided to hide out in her room until Harry and Ron arrived. Rose would have told them by now, and she wanted to show them how far she had come. They would be so impressed. Maybe she was even getting better.

Hermione stretched out on her bed and waited.

* * *

><p>Draco and Lucius were sitting in tense silence when Harry and Ron came through the floo.<p>

"Is it true?" Harry asked, too surprised to remember to sound angry.

"What, that your princess is awake and talking?" snapped Draco. "Yes, it's true."

"Do you think she's getting better, mate?" Ron said to Harry, a small disbelieving smile on his face, completely ignoring Draco's jab. "She's never recovered that quickly before."

Harry shrugged, but he was smiling too.

"Oh, just go visit the girl before you send her into another fit, you idiots," Draco snarled. He was sick to death of the Wonder Duo, and if he had to watch them swoon over Granger for another second, he was going to break something.

They both scowled at him and stormed off in the direction of her bedroom.

Draco turned a new, uncomfortable idea over in his head. "Father?" he asked.

Lucius looked up.

"You don't think that... I mean, if Granger really does get better, you don't think they'll take her back, do you? Put her on missions again and keep her away from the house?" He was trying hard to sound calm and indifferent, but the possibility made him feel anything but. She was functional again - that meant she could spend her days the way she did before. He had grown to enjoy teaching her chess, and he was pleased that the three of them could all sit and read in the same room without it feeling horribly uncomfortable. It was annoying enough that she went to work in the afternoons with that tosser Wolf. If Potter and Weasley started involving her in the Order again, her time would be all used up.

Lucius frowned, obviously drawing the same conclusions. "I suppose it's not impossible that she would spend less and less time here if they deemed her healthy enough."

Draco grunted. He wasn't happy about this at all. Maybe Granger could just pretend to be a total basket case again? But that would mean she would have to want to stay at the house with them. Maybe she didn't want that at all. Maybe she wanted to join the missions. Maybe she wanted to be the fucking bitchy know-it-all she was in school.

She didn't need him around to do any of that.

He rubbed his eyes angrily, frustrated that a functional Granger could bring so many complications along. Couldn't things just go back to normal? He had his father's blessing to be friendly, after all. He could make it worth her while if she stayed tucked away in the house with them. He could learn how to be nice. They needed her more than those other idiots. Besides, she was a target. If she got more involved again, she would be in danger. Surely they didn't want that.

A door slammed and Harry and Ron came walking briskly back into the living room, frowning.

"What, not happy with your princess's progress?" Draco said, dryly. In truth, he was confused as to why they had come back so quickly, looking none-too-pleased either. They should be overjoyed with how she was doing.

"You certainly must be thrilled, Malfoy," Harry ground out as Draco's eyebrows rose. "Apparently she became lucid after she realized the curse was taking you again."

Draco felt a strange twitch in his heart. _That's_ what woke her up? He saw his father straighten up in his chair.

"What did you do to make her worry about you?" Ron seethed, advancing slowly on the Malfoys. "Last I checked, you didn't even want her 'filthy' hands on you."

Draco thought briefly of Hermione's soft hands sliding over his chest, and quickly shuffled the image away. Now was not the time. He didn't like the way Weasley's fingers were twitching near his wand, anyway.

"It's been two months since I said that," he said, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand. He had to get Potter and Weasley off this train of thought before they tried to take Granger away from him. If they thought things were getting too comfortable, they would purposefully ruin the quiet balance of the house. "Obviously I'm grateful that Granger has been able to treat my father and I. As for her being worried, I think that's just a typical bleeding heart Gryffindor thing, don't you? Doesn't your kind worry about everyone?"

His father caught on to Draco's attempt at diversion and joined in. "Surely you don't believe that my son has somehow swayed Miss Granger into being more concerned than she would be for anyone else," sneered Lucius. "Are you worried that your Mudblood has softened to a Malfoy?"

"Don't use that fucking term around me, Lucius," said Harry, angrily.

Ron was looking between the two Malfoys suspiciously. His fingers relaxed somewhat.

"Let's go, Harry. It's true... 'Mione couldn't possibly give a shit about these two murderers. They'd as soon kill her as look at her. It was their side that broke her mind in the first place. She's just being nice. She'll come back to the Order as soon as they're better."

Draco flinched. He heard the roar of the floo as they left, but his eyes stayed locked on the table.

"Do you think she would?" he asked his father, quietly. "Leave, I mean?"

Lucius sighed. "We've already discussed this son. Of course it's possible, but we really have no idea how her mind would fare outside the house. Perhaps she's able to function her best here. Perhaps not. I really think you're too invested in this - we can't allow ourselves to become too dependent on her."

Draco's anger flared. "Dependent? _Dependent?_ We starve without her, I become possessed by a curse, your leg is already starting a new infection, and we have zero stimulation other than her library. I think we've passed the point of being dependent, father. My concern is, since we know we rely on her, _and don't you fucking deny it_, will the Wonder Duo try and take her away? We have no idea how long this war will last, and honestly, if Granger makes our time here a little more bearable, it's not surprising that I'm concerned she might leave." He stood up so quickly his chair fell backwards. Fuming, he stalked off to his room, not looking back at the shocked look on his father's face.

As he was reaching for the doorknob, he heard a shaky sniffle coming from Hermione's room. He froze. Was she upset? Of course, Potter and Weasley had been less than welcoming about her reasons for waking up, but would they be stupid enough to voice that in front of her?

Draco stood in the hallway for several long seconds trying to decide what to do. Would it seem too friendly to go check up on her, or just friendly enough? Maybe it was easier just to be rude to her after all. This business of introspection was bloody exhausting.

With a sigh, he knocked lightly on her door. "Granger? You okay?"

He pushed open the door, and found Hermione curled up in the bed, her eyes red and puffy, wet with tears.

It was a very sad sight.

Completely unsure how to proceed, he sat down awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

"Not liking the real world?" he said, knowing the joke was probably in bad taste. To his surprise, she chuckled.

"They were mad. I mean, actually mad that I was worried about you," she said. A strand of her hair was plastered to her cheek, and he tried very hard not to reach out and move it. "I thought they would be happy with my progress, but no."

"Your progress is brilliant," Draco scoffed. "Even I can see that. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Granger. If those two dolts can't figure that out, than maybe it's a good thing you're not more involved with the Order right now."

She looked at him in surprise. Even though he had become less frosty, that was an unusually kind thing to say. "Thanks, Malfoy," she said.

He grunted in reply.

"I'm not going back to what I used to do for the Order," she said, unexpectedly. "I feel safe in my house, and I get anxious enough going to work, but I can't imagine participating in missions again. I think I'd shut right down. It's the over-stimulation that does it... The unpredictability. I can control what happens here. Makes it easier to keep my brain focused."

Draco nodded. That made sense. The relief he felt at her comment about the Order raced through his body.

"So you're saying you're up for a chess game tomorrow?" he chanced, smirking.

"If you're prepared to win without lifting a finger," she deadpanned.

Draco snorted. He never thought he'd hear her joke again. "You're not _that_ bad, Granger. Game after breakfast. No backing out now."

He stood up as a tiny smile crossed her face.

"Thank you for being worried about me, by the way," he said, not meeting her eyes. He hated thanking people for anything, but this seemed right, as long as she didn't get used to it. "I'm glad you woke up. Rose was useless. I'd probably be burned to a crisp right now if I had suffered through any more of her so-called care."

He could see Hermione's smile widen in his peripheral.

"You're so rude," she said.

"At least I'm predictable," he said with a shrug, and left her room before things got any friendlier.

_She doesn't want to leave_, he thought as he lay in bed that night. _She feels safe here_. He dreamt of her hands until morning.

* * *

><p>The next day, Draco beat Hermione at chess, but he made sure to give her a fighting chance before he went in for the kill.<p>

"Checkmate," he said with a grin.

"Predictable," she sighed. "Oh, Lucius, I almost forgot..." She stood up abruptly and walked over to the kitchen, opening a drawer and pulling out a stack of magazines. "From your reading, I noticed you have an interest in astrology, so I ordered the back copies of the _Wizard Astrologer_ for you. I guess they came in a few days ago when I was... Well... Out of commission."

She placed then in front of him on the table, and then went to work on the dishes.

Lucius stared at the stack.

Draco observed his father, curious how he would react to such a thoughtful gesture. Hermione didn't notice the strange tension, scrubbing away at the plates that she insisted on washing by hand.

"Miss Granger, these have been out of print for many years," Lucius said, carefully.

Hermione nodded absently, wiping down the counter. "Yes, but I've been curious about them myself, and I figured that if you might be interested, it would be worth ordering. I have some contacts who get me publications that are harder to find."

She hung up the dish towel, still oblivious to Lucius's struggle.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. That was very kind of you."

Her eyes drifted upwards and gazed amusedly at Lucius. "You can call me Hermione, you know," she said, softly.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Hi sugars! Now we're getting into it. A little spark to start, but I know you're going to be screaming for the head of a certain Malfoy by the end of the chapter. ;) Don't worry... It might feel like a regression, but it's important to the story. Promise. Some of you are interested in Wolf... Curious, isn't he? Keep an eye on that one. Your reviews continue to keep me smiling. You are all so charming. I'll keep trading you chapters for comments, yeah?_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Hermione stepped out of the floo at 6 pm sharp with a sparkle in her eyes.<p>

Draco arched an eyebrow at her. He hadn't seen her look so animated since school. "Why are you looking so pleased, Granger?"

"I had an epiphany," she said, sitting next to him on the couch. "If I make an adjustment to your potion and then do the treatment twice a day instead of once, we can probably pull the rest of the curse out of you in about a week. The sessions will be a bit longer, but I think it could work."

He tried not to let his face fall at the news. Only one more week of treatments? "That's great," he choked out. "Can't say I'll miss the burning sensation." _But I will miss your hands_.

"Excellent," she said with a smile. "Shall we try now?"

Draco nodded and lay back on the couch, pulling off his shirt. Funny how comfortable it was to do this now, considering how intimate it had seemed months earlier. Hermione ducked into the room where she kept her potions and came back with her arms full. Placing them on the coffee table, she started tossing the ingredients together with practiced ease. Draco watched her as she worked, admiring the way her stubborn curls kept falling into her eyes. After the fourth time an errant curl blocked her vision, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

She paused in her mixing and looked at him. Neither of them moved for a moment.

Then she cleared her throat and continued to stir as if nothing had happened. Draco let out a nervous breath - he had acted without thinking. Gods, he was glad she took it in stride. It was surprisingly easy to be nice to her, but intimate actions like that were a slippery slope. He was already worried enough about keeping his word to his father... This had to stay platonic. He couldn't have a future with her, and really, she had given no indication that such a thing would even interest her.

That was generally true for him as well, except when she touched him. When her skin met his, he started to wonder if maybe he was in a little deeper than he ought to be.

Suddenly, he felt the potion being spread over his chest and her small hands stretching out into position.

"So it will take a bit longer, and I'm going to try a couple of new areas to see if we get better results," she said.

He nodded, and tried to push inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

Pressing in, she began the spell. After a while, her hands slipped lower, from his chest to his ribs. He sucked in a breath as she continued the incantation. Minutes passed, and he focused feverishly on everything but the feeling of her fingers.

Her hands slipped down to his stomach, and he nearly lost it.

_She will never touch me again if I get turned on by this. Focus, Draco... Focus..._

She slid her hands from his stomach back up to his chest, as though she were pushing the curse out of him.

He lost track of the time, and only realized she was done when she lifted her hands off him. He heard her let out a shaky breath. She wasn't affected by the treatment too... Was she?

"All done," she said, wiping her hands off, and then wiping his torso. "Again tomorrow morning?"

He simply nodded, and then bolted to his room before he could reach out to tuck another curl behind her ear.

* * *

><p>Lucius was watching the treatment the following morning, and Draco exercised the control of a saint when her hands slipped down to his stomach.<p>

He watched the curl hanging in front of her eyes with regret.

Lucius smirked.

* * *

><p>His father was in the library when that evening's treatment took place, and Draco let himself relax a bit.<p>

When a curl came loose, he tucked it behind her ear, and met her gaze as bravely as he could.

* * *

><p>The following morning, he wondered what would happen if he really did cover her hands with his own.<p>

No curls came loose, to his great disappointment.

He noticed her biting her lower lip in concentration. He wet his lips with his tongue, suddenly feeling parched.

* * *

><p>Too soon, they were preparing for his last treatment.<p>

"I think this should do it," she said. "There was almost nothing left this morning."

He simply nodded. His throat felt scratchy and thick. He didn't want the sessions to end. They guaranteed one-on-one time with her. They guaranteed physical contact. He had gotten extremely fond of both.

"How will you ever fulfill your need to put your hands on me now, Granger?" he teased, his voice hoarse. Merlin, now he had reduced himself to shameless flirting.

She quirked her brow at him. "I'm sure I'll find a way," she joked back.

His heart tightened a bit, and she began the treatment. She was right... There was hardly any of the curse left, but she went through all the motions anyway, taking her time.

Draco's chest was aching, and he grudgingly accepted that it wasn't from the final remnants of the curse. He tried to enjoy the touch of her hands, knowing it would be the last time he got to experience the feeling of them sliding over his body.

She pushed her hands back up to his chest. That was the last step. In a few moments, it would be over. Draco braced himself.

He noticed her hesitating, not pulling her hands away when he expected her to.

Taking a huge leap of faith, Draco brought his hands up and covered hers with his own. Even _he_ could feel his frantic heartbeat through her palms... There was no way she had missed it. He wondered how she felt about that.

They stared into each other's eyes, breathing slowly. He didn't want to let go. She was so bloody soft.

A door squeaked open, and Hermione gasped, pulling her hands away. He saw that she was trembling slightly as she cleaned them both up.

"All done," she whispered, sitting on the edge of the couch beside him, leaning in to wipe the rest of the potion from his chest.

He propped himself up on his elbows, bringing his face at level with hers. She was distractingly beautiful. He wished he had realized it sooner.

"Pity," he whispered back, and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn't planned to do it, but he was pushed by the fear that he might not get another chance.

Colour flushed up her neck, and she glanced down at his mouth. Draco saw the look, and his breath caught in his throat. Did he dare? Would she let him kiss her on the lips? It was very much not in the plans, but suddenly seemed like exactly what he wanted to do. It felt like everything was leading up to this moment. He could analyze it later, but he knew how badly he wanted this, and it scared him. His life was morphing into an unrecognizable mix of emotions that he'd never felt before. Slowly, very timidly, Draco leaned in, the smell of jasmine taking over his senses like some sort of heady aphrodisiac. Hermione's eyes started to slide shut. _So close..._

A door closed loudly, signalling his father's imminent arrival, and she pulled away with a jump, quickly gathering the potions up and grabbing the now-full bucket. Draco let loose a colourful string of swear words in his mind. Damn his father's timing to _hell_.

"All set to check your leg," she said to Lucius as he walked down the hall, her voice unusually high. She hurried to the room where she kept her potions. "Just give me a moment."

Lucius caught Draco's eye.

"She seems a bit flustered," he said, narrowing his gaze at his son.

Draco shrugged, trying not to seem overly upset at his father's intrusion and failing. He was fucking _furious_.

His lips felt numb. His heart was still going wild inside his chest. Fuck, he had been _so close_.

Lucius looked at his son's distracted demeanor and drew his own conclusions, clenching his jaw angrily.

* * *

><p>Hermione closed the door of the spare room behind her, frantically putting away her potions. Her heart was racing and she felt uncomfortably warm.<p>

_I kiss Harry and Ron on the cheek all the time. They kiss me on the cheek too. It doesn't have to mean anything_.

She tossed the potion-soaked cloth in the hamper and placed the bucket on top of the dresser, the curse sloshing around inside.

_It doesn't have to mean anything. He was just being friendly_.

Oh, but she _liked_ the gesture, she realized with a groan. Unexpectedly, she liked it. Harry and Ron's kisses felt sweet and caring. Brotherly. This kiss felt charged. It didn't feel like a simple kiss on the cheek between friends. It felt like a precursor to something bigger.

Something that made her heart skip.

Something nice.

Something that had _almost happened_. A proper kiss. The kind of kiss she could probably drown in. She wasn't sure if she felt relieved or furious at Lucius's abhorrent timing.

It was true; she liked Draco's gentle manner these days. When he tucked her hair behind her ear. When he touched her hands. She liked all of it, even if it scared her. It made her _feel_ again, using parts of her heart and brain she thought had died long ago. Parts that died with Anthony, or with her parents, or with those children. She had missed that feeling more than she knew.

Suddenly, she was doubting herself. She hadn't imagined it, right? He had leaned in, hadn't he? Would he really have kissed her on the mouth? Gods, she didn't even know if she _minded_ the idea anymore.

_Confusing. This is confusing_. _Damn you, Malfoy_.

Hermione could hear the murmers of Draco and Lucius talking in the living room, and she knew she'd have to go back. She had to check Lucius's leg, she had to make dinner... She had to stop thinking about that kiss. And that _almost_ kiss.

_Just STOP. Just because he's been nice lately doesn't mean he wants something more. Stop worrying. It's probably nothing._

But wait... His heart had been hammering underneath her hands. She had felt it. Hell, he had probably felt it too.

Hermione had never been a big fan of denial, but the truth was scaring her. His heart had been pounding, and then he had kissed her on the cheek. He probably would have done more if Lucius hadn't interrupted.

_It meant something, didn't it_.

Hermione swore quietly. Yes, it meant something. Something she was shocked to discover she might not be opposed to after all.

She took a deep breath and stood up, schooling her face into an expression of calm. She would think more about it later. For now, she would have to plead ignorance and get through the rest of the evening.

With a determination that surprised her, she forced the image of his lips out of her mind.

* * *

><p>Hermione walked out of the spare room to find Lucius and Draco glaring at each other.<p>

"Everything okay?" she asked, warily.

Lucius snapped out of his tense expression and gave her a strained smile. "Yes. Yes, of course." Draco continued to glare.

"Good. Shall we look at your leg?"

Lucius nodded, and Draco stood up.

"You can use the couch," Draco said, avoiding her eyes. "I'll be in my room." He took off without a backwards glance.

Hermione frowned as she started looking over Lucius's leg. _That was odd_. "You two didn't argue, did you?" she asked.

Lucius gave her a guarded look. "No, not exactly."

She removed the gauze and added an antiseptic to the reddest area. Lucius flinched - it was obviously still sore. "It's alright, we don't need to talk about it if you don't want."

She could see Lucius assessing her out of the corner of her eye, but stayed focused on her work. If he really wanted to talk, he would do it on his own. She had enough to think about without worrying about some father / son spat, and besides which, Lucius could be a little frightening when he was angry. She knew he hadn't seen anything between her and Draco because she had pulled away before Lucius came into view.

Besides, there was nothing to see... Right?

"Miss Granger..."

"Hermione, please."

"Very well, Hermione. I'll be frank. I've noticed that you and Draco seem to have gotten over some of your differences recently. It's quite a change from how things were when you first decided to take us in."

_So that's what they've been arguing about_.

Hermione waffled briefly between being honest or cautious. As much as Lucius had warmed up to her over the past few months, she knew he still held on to some of his old prejudices, and Draco had already let slip that he wasn't "allowed" to be friends with her. She guessed his father wouldn't be thrilled to know about Draco's affectionate, albeit confusing, behaviour.

She shrugged, playing it safe. "Seemed pointless to keep up an internal war when there's so many bigger things going on. It's easier to be friendly than to be hostile."

_Please drop it_.

Lucius was assessing her again. She busied her hands unwrapping some fresh gauze, trying not to seem nervous under his gaze. The man could certainly be intimidating when he tried.

"How friendly?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" she said, her eyes shooting up to meet his. He was really serious about this. That didn't bode well at all.

"How friendly are you and Draco?" His gaze issued a silent challenge to her. It said, _you know what I mean_. It also wasn't the most cheerful look he had ever given her.

Hermione's mood shifted. Her skittish nervousness and happy glow transformed into a mix of anger and sadness. Apparently she needn't worry about whether or not Draco was developing feelings for her, or vice versa... Lucius was determined to stop anything before it started. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised, but she was.

She tightened the gauze around his leg in one deft tug. He flinched again.

"Worried Draco will start being nice to a Mudblood, Lucius?" she said, knowing she probably sounded as upset as she felt. She already knew the answer, and if she was being honest, it hurt.

He had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"That's not what I meant..."

"Yes, it is," she snapped, cutting him off. "I know it is. Don't lie to me." Her composure was slipping and she felt tears prick her eyes, but she decided to continue before she lost her nerve. "Allow me to put your mind at ease. Draco and I are only just getting to be friends, largely because he was raised to believe that I am beneath him in every sense. His friendship will be hard enough for me to secure, you can trust that. As for anything beyond friendship, I'm sure his upbringing and continuing societal and familial pressures will be enough to keep him far away from me and my _dirty blood_. Apparently I am good enough to feed you, heal you and provide conversation, but anything else is off the board. Have I read you correctly?"

She threw her medical supplies into the tote and stood up abruptly. She had to get out of there before she started to cry or something equally as humiliating. She knew how much hurt and anger had radiated through her words, but at least it was accurate. So what if Lucius knew she was upset? The Mudblood wasn't good enough for his son. Message received, loud and clear.

"Hermione, I'm not trying to make things difficult for either of you..." Lucius said.

She gave him a disbelieving glare. "Please stop the act, Lucius. I'm unstable, not stupid."

He gave her a sympathetic look and continued. "I know you're not stupid, which is why you must understand my point of view. Draco is a Pureblood, and it would not be proper for him to develop feelings for you. We can't have weak blood introduced to the family line. Surely you understand that - "

"Weak blood?" she whispered, slightly in awe at the attitude of the man she had become rather fond of over the past while. "Weak blood. Really Lucius? Is that still what I am to you? Just some witch with weak blood?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He seemed unsure how to respond. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Amazing," she spat. "You are a real piece of work."

She turned on her heel and walked away.

"Miss Granger!" she heard him calling behind her. "Hermione!" She ignored him as a few renegade tears finally escaped her eyes. It had felt nice to be cared for, even for that brief moment where Draco had touched her hands and kissed her cheek. It had given her a sliver of hope that she could still mean something to someone, even if things had ended up going nowhere. The hope was the nice part. It had been so long since she'd felt like there was half a chance for her, and suddenly she was given a reprieve from the oppressive loneliness that had swallowed her whole.

But that was silly. The person who had given her that hope was a Pureblood, she was not, and it would be hard enough for them to be friends. Anything more? Well, that was impossible, apparently. Served her right for hoping in the first place. Draco probably hadn't even leaned in at all. She had conjured the idea out of blinding emptiness, no doubt. How pathetic of her.

Hermione locked her door and silenced her room. Her two houseguests could feed themselves dinner. She was done being their maid.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_BIG DEVELOPMENTS Y'ALL. Here's another early chapter to thank you for your enthusiastic reviewing. I also want to say a very belated welcome back to my regular readers, and a big hello to the new folks. It's pretty great to have you all here. The interwebs are so fun! So... To summarize t__his chapter: shit goes down. Discuss!_

_xo _

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Draco walked out of his room at 9 pm, wondering why he hadn't been called for dinner. He expected to find Hermione in the kitchen, his father reading at the table. There was such a routine around this house now that he was rarely taken by surprise.<p>

Instead, he found his father on the couch, trying to read but looking disgruntled. Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

"Father?" he said, puzzled.

Lucius looked up, his face drawn and tired.

"She's gone to bed. Mr. Potter already came by with her potion."

Draco didn't understand. She never left them without food... Unless she was completely incapacitated.

"Was she feeling ill?" he asked, worry kicking around in his stomach. "Did she have another episode?"

"She wasn't feeling up to having company," his father replied, vaguely, not meeting Draco's eyes.

Something clicked in Draco's brain. That strange expression on his father's face was guilt, and that could only mean one thing.

"What did you say to her?" he said, suddenly angry. "You upset her, didn't you? Was this about earlier? Did you draw some drastically incorrect assumption about my behaviour towards her?"

"I think I am quite correct in my assumption about your behaviour, son," Lucius snapped. "You are developing feelings for her, just as I feared. I simply reminded her that you are not able to be involved with each other. Surely the girl knew that."

"But we're not involved!" Draco shouted, almost pleadingly. "We're just becoming friends! What right do you have to scare her off? Maybe I like having a friend!"

"You want more than friendship with her and you know it," snarled Lucius. "But you can't. You can't have it, you hear? I won't have you falling in love with someone of lesser status than you. I regret that she took it badly, but all I did was tell her that we can't have weak blood poisoning our family line - "

"Do _not_ tell me you used that language with her," Draco seethed, his voice dangerously low. "Even you wouldn't be that callous. Tell me you didn't say that to her."

Lucius didn't respond, and looked away.

"You did. You actually did." Draco ran his hand through his hair, astounded that his father would do such a thing. After she saved them from a death sentence. After she had cared for them so diligently. He almost wanted to laugh, it was so absurd. "Do I need to remind you of everything she's done for us? Do I need to point out that it is _our_ blood that is a handicap in this world? Two Death Eater Purebloods, ready to extinguish our family name because we can't be bothered to evolve - "

"Evolve?" Lucius shouted. "Do you think having pure blood is something to evolve out of? We are privileged! Of course I am grateful for everything she's done. She's a very bright young woman, and I owe her a great deal for her sacrifices. But I cannot allow you to be reckless with your relationships! You are to marry a Pureblooded witch - "

"Who, father? Who am I to marry? Surely you realize that nearly all the eligible Purebloods in our community are involved with the Dark Lord. They wouldn't want me, and at this point, I wouldn't want them. Would you condemn me to a life of bachelorhood if I can't find someone you approve of? Either way, the Malfoy name dies with me."

Lucius snapped his mouth shut, breathing heavily. He looked furious, but Draco could tell he had hit a nerve.

"You know what, father?" Draco said, more calmly now. "I didn't know where things might go with her. I was interested in finding out, seeing if she'd give me a chance after how I've treated her, but it wasn't some sure thing. I just wanted to see. She's... Different. She's intriguing. She's forgiving." He let out a sad, desperate laugh that sounded a bit like a sob, his calm facade slipping. "She treats us both better than we deserve, too. I actually feel _happy_ when I spend time with her. I can't think of anyone else who has that effect on me. You've not only ruined that, the tiny, minute chance of something romantic, but you've ruined my chance to have an actual friend too. She really is the only person in my life right now. The only person who might be forgiving enough to befriend me. Everyone else wants me to disappear." It was hard to say these things out loud. Although Draco knew them to be true, they were very depressing realities and he had been happy to ignore them. Other than his father, he had no one. At times like this, he missed his mother more than he could ever explain.

Lucius was looking at the ground, guilt clouding his harsh features.

"What's going to happen, father?" Draco said, even softer now. "Let's say for the sake of argument that the Dark Lord is brought down. Do you really think anyone but her will give us a chance? If you do, you're dreaming. The Order hates us; they only keep us around for those paltry bits of information you feed them. I'm actually amazed they keep us around with how little you say. The other side, well, we know how they feel about us. The public won't be forgiving, either. They'll want us slaughtered. Who else but her?"

Lucius didn't respond. He looked so old in that moment, Draco was taken aback. The monologue was over; he knew he had made his point. Hermione was their hope, and Lucius had dashed it.

"Perhaps I was hasty with my words," his father said eventually. "I acknowledge that she has given us more than we deserve. And I'm sorry if I've denied you the chance to have her company, as a friend or otherwise. Of course you deserve that kind of happiness. I don't regret my motivations, but perhaps I wasn't thinking about the future in the same manner as you. Sometimes I forget how much things have changed."

Draco sighed, and looked down the hall towards her room.

"She'll be so hurt," he said, quietly. "She cares about you too, father. You know she does. She must be so hurt."

Lucius swore under his breath. "Perhaps I should speak with her."

"No," said Draco. "I'll try."

He left his father sitting alone and padded up to Hermione's door. "Granger?" he said, knocking. He tried the handle, but it was locked. "Granger? Can I talk to you?"

There was no response. If anything, the was a vacuum of sound, signalling to Draco that she had cast a spell to keep her from being bothered. He wasn't surprised, but he was saddened. After that charged moment they had shared earlier, the feel of her hands under his, his lips on her cheek, it had to end like this. _Fuck_ he was angry at his meddling father. He had hoped to gage her mood over dinner; see how she reacted to his earlier advances. See if there was a chance for him to try again. But anything he might have gained had been erased. She didn't want to see either of them.

He walked back to the living room, defeated.

"She's locked and warded the door. Maybe she'll speak to us tomorrow," he said, not quite believing his own words. "I'm going to go see if there's anything in the fridge."

Both Malfoys spent the night feeling extremely empty, wondering what the future held for them, if anything.

* * *

><p>Draco and Lucius woke up fairly early the next morning to see if Hermione was about. Exiting their rooms at the same time, they shared a look and walked briskly to the kitchen.<p>

What they saw there made Lucius groan and Draco swear.

The table was set for two, and there was a quiche in the centre for their breakfast. No third place setting, and no sign of Hermione.

"When on earth did she make that?" Lucius muttered.

"I don't fucking know, father," Draco growled. "But I'm willing to bet we won't see her until she leaves for work, if even." He kicked the kitchen chair in anger and stomped back to his room, leaving his father alone.

Draco spent most of the day in the library, reading and sifting through Hermione's ever-growing collection. He jumped eagerly every time he heard a door open, and ran into the hall hoping to see Hermione's familiar mass of brown curls. Each time, it was Lucius. His father had taken to pacing agitatedly around the house and Draco used every last reserve of his patience not to scream at the man. He held off simply because he could see the guilt eating away at his father. _Good_. He deserved to feel guilty.

Draco had been right, of course. She was hurt. Really hurt, if her reaction was anything to go by. She had always brushed off Draco's "Mudblood" comments before, but Lucius saying the equivalent was different. Draco knew that she had come to enjoy his father's company. The fact that she ordered back copies of his favourite magazine, completely unprompted, was evidence enough.

But Lucius telling Hermione to her face that she wasn't good enough to be friends with Draco, let alone something more... Well... That must have been difficult to hear. Especially after that moment they shared at the end of his treatment. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to have leaned in a little further and kissed her on the lips. He _liked_ the girl. He liked her a lot. He knew that now. And the worst part about his father's horrendous oversight is that his suspicions were actually correct - Draco did want something more than friendship with Hermione. Friendship would be great, it would be wonderful, but it wouldn't be enough in the long run. Not with the way his pulse raced around her. Or the way he shivered when her bare hands touched his chest.

He wanted more, and he might not get it.

A door opened somewhere in the house, and he almost didn't bother to go check. His father had been pacing like a lunatic for hours, and it was most likely him. Still, it was worth looking. He poked his head out of the room.

Hermione's small frame was walking quickly towards the floo.

"Granger!" he shouted, and took off in a sprint. "Wait!"

She ignored him and picked up her pace. In turn, he practically threw himself at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around right before she was about to reach for the floo powder.

"Granger," he panted, staring into her wide eyes. "Please. Please just talk to me."

"There's nothing to say, Malfoy," she said, her expression sad and strained. "I'm off to work. We don't have anything to discuss."

"But we do," he said, pleading. "I need to apologize for my father. He needs to apologize too, frankly, and he will. But I wanted you to know that I don't care what he says. He barely means that tripe anyway - you and I can be friends if we want to."

She sighed, looking anxious. "Malfoy, listen... Although what your father said upset me, I guess he's right. You and I are from different worlds. He would never accept me as your... Your friend... And I don't belong in your society. He's just saving us some trouble. It's fine. I shouldn't really have thought that - "

"Yes you should have! I want to be friends. I want us to keep getting to know each other. Please Granger, this is hard enough for me to say as it is... Can we just talk about this more after you get back from work? I don't want you to shut me out. Please."

She sighed again and closed her eyes, as if she was trying to block him from her consciousness.

"Hermione, please."

Her eyes snapped open.

"What did you say?" she asked, incredulous.

"I called you by your name," he said gently, brushing a curl out of her eyes. "Promise me we can talk more tonight." He was looking at her straight on, wanting her to know how serious he was. He didn't want to mess this up.

She chewed on her lower lip. He held his breath.

"Well... I guess we can talk more later..."

He let out a sigh of relief and gathered her into a hug, ignoring her yelp of surprise.

"Thank you," he said, earnestly, relishing the contact before letting her go.

She stammered briefly, and then stepped into the floo, calling out the name of her lab in a shaky voice. She was gone in a roar of green flames.

"Son?" came his father's voice. Draco turned to see Lucius walking unevenly down the hall.

"You're smiling," Lucius observed. "Do I take that to mean that you spoke with her?"

Draco nodded, trying not to grin too widely. "She said we could talk more when she got back from work."

Lucius seemed to relax a bit. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps I can apologize after all."

"Indeed," said Draco, still smiling. "I think she would appreciate that."

He looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was 1:05 pm. Just under five hours until she got home.

He went and cut himself a generous piece of quiche and waited.

* * *

><p>It was 6:10 pm.<p>

"She's never been late before," Draco said, frowning. "Never. Not even by a minute." He was tapping his fork nervously against the table.

Lucius seemed equally perturbed. "It is odd, but ten minutes is not a drastic amount of time. I'm sure she was just tied up with a project."

Draco nodded, still tapping his fork. _Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap_.

Lucius glared at him, and then his expression softened.

"She'll be here soon, son. Don't worry."

* * *

><p>6:25 pm.<p>

"I don't understand. Do you think she's staying late because she's angry with me? She seemed to want to talk when I asked her earlier." _Tap tap tap tap tap tap_.

Lucius frowned at the clock.

"It is rather strange," he said, absently.

Draco cut himself another piece of quiche.

* * *

><p>6:45 pm.<p>

Draco was pacing.

"Something isn't right, father. It's not like her. I don't like this." He had thrown his fork across the room minutes earlier.

Lucius stood up stiffly and walked towards the floo.

"Although I'd like to believe the best, I agree that this is quite out of character for her. I will contact the Order in case they have information we don't."

Draco continued to pace as Lucius stuck his head into the flames, presumably to talk to Potter or Weasley or anyone else who could help.

He pulled his head out ten minutes later, a deep frown marring his features.

"They haven't heard from her, and nobody is answering at the lab."

Draco felt his stomach sink.

"The lab is secure though, right? That Wolf guy said so. Granger said so. She's supposed to be safe there, right?"

Lucius cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"In theory, yes," he said. He looked doubtful. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are going there now to investigate. They will come here afterwards."

Draco felt the panic rising and fought to push it down. Panicking wasn't going to help the situation. Still, his breaths were coming up short, as though someone was squeezing his windpipe. Where the hell _was_ she?

"She never leaves the lab," he murmured. "Not even for groceries. Gets too anxious in public."

Lucius nodded. "Another reason why I am concerned about the situation. I see no reason why she would have left."

They sat in torturous silence while they waited for news.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Harry and Ron burst through the floo looking frantic.<p>

Draco jumped to his feet.

"What?" he said. "What's going on? Why are you both looking so worried?"

Harry ran his hands quickly through his hair. He had dark circles around his eyes.

"We found her wand," he choked out.

"We found blood," added Ron, sombrely, looking equally destroyed. "It's hers," he added, seeing Lucius open his mouth to ask.

The room swam before Draco's eyes, and he swayed.

Harry reached out with alarm. "Easy Malfoy. Have a seat." He guided him towards the couch. Draco's vision was still spinning.

"Her blood?" he echoed, pressing his hand over his eyes. "Oh my God."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, clearly wondering when Draco had become so concerned about Hermione, but both of them kept quiet. There were more serious things to worry about.

"What about her employer? What does he have to say?" Lucius asked, all colour gone from his face.

"Still trying to reach Wolf. He's away on business," said Harry. "I hope to Merlin he answers us soon. He's going to flip."

Ron sat down and sunk his head into his hands, mirroring Draco. Harry looked haunted.

"She'll break if they hurt her again," Ron mumbled, lifting his head and staring into the floo. "She can't take another incident like last time."

Draco heard Harry let out what could only be described as a whimper. He looked like he was cracking at the seams with worry.

Harry stood up suddenly, grabbed a heavy vase off the end table, and threw it against a wall with a huge crash and a growl. Glass splintered off onto the floor in satisfying disarray.

Nobody even flinched. Harry sat down again, looking slightly more calm.

Draco felt that he understood Harry for the first time in his life.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_The wait is over... We're about to find out what broke Hermione. Poor girl. Don't miss that sliver of hope near the end, though. I'm sort of glad the last chapter surprised you guys... I'm aiming to keep things a bit unpredictable. Let's see if I can keep it up. Anyway, send along your comments and I promise to give you something uplifting tomorrow! Your reviews are fucking brilliant - I heart you all. (HG4eva, I laughed so hard at your review that I did one of those awkward snort laughs. Not hot at all, but totally worth it.)_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>An hour later, Wolf came charging through the floo, his eyes wild. All four men looked up anxiously.<p>

"I got your patronus - forgive me, I was out of the country," he said to Harry and Ron, ignoring the Malfoys completely. "Another one of my employees is missing too... Bryce Court. There's no sign that he was taken against his will though, so he might be the attacker."

"That gives us a lead, thank Merlin," said Ron, scribbling down a few notes. "We couldn't find anything other than her wand and the blood... It makes sense that it would be an inside job. You have excellent security at the lab."

"Apparently not excellent enough," said Wolf, looking heavily strained. "I can't believe she's been taken. Do you have any idea where she might be kept?"

Harry shook his head. "We know very little about where they keep prisoners. Tonks is working on it, but we have almost nothing to go on... I think we'd do best to gather more information on Bryce. He's the most solid lead we have at this point."

"And what about these two?" Wolf sneered, turning on Draco and Lucius, pointing his finger angrily. Both men tensed. "They want her dead. We all know they do. Perhaps they've been feeding information to their old colleagues. Have you questioned them?"

Both Malfoys clenched their jaws, glaring murderously at Wolf and bristling at the insinuation. Harry caught Draco's eye and gave him a surprisingly reassuring look.

"Wolf," he cut in quickly. "They have no way of contacting anyone but Headquarters. Hermione designed the system in the most restrictive way possible... Death Eater connections aside, it would be impossible for them to have gotten around the safeguards. They don't even have wands."

"And not to mention the fact that we're no longer working for You-Know-Who!" snarled Draco, desperate to make himself heard. "We wouldn't wish harm on Granger. We want her back too." He heard Ron snort, but ignored it, continuing angrily. "I'll remind you that we were the ones who alerted you to the fact that she hadn't returned home!"

"Yes, how convenient for you," snapped Wolf, looking dangerous. "What a handy alibi. And you wouldn't wish harm on her? That's _shite_. We all know what your lot think of Muggle-borns. You think that they are beneath you, that they'd be better off enslaved or dead than treated as equals." Draco noticed his father's face fall out of the corner of his eye. Guilt from his last words to Hermione, no doubt.

"Don't waste your breath on me," Wolf continued. "Just because Harry believes you, doesn't mean I do. I'll be watching you both."

Turning on his heel, he walked into the floo and disappeared.

Draco let out an angry growl and tugged at his hair. "Fucking tosser." Lucius had lowered his head into his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs. He looked horribly conflicted.

"Mr. Potter, may I speak with you for a moment? In private?" Lucius said, suddenly.

Harry shot him a strange look, but nodded curtly and gestured towards the hallway. Lucius stood up and followed, leaving Draco and Ron in the living room.

"Weasley," said Draco, his expression pained. "I won't pretend that we get along, or that we even like each other, but you believe me, don't you? You know I would never want this?" Draco didn't know why he suddenly cared, but Hermione was missing and he wanted Potter and Weasley to understand that he wasn't responsible. She had grown on him. She had _more_ than grown on him. The suggestion that he might have plotted the attack actually made him feel sick.

Ron looked at his feet for a minute and then shrugged. "Hard to say, but yeah, seems like a stretch to think you're involved. You and 'Mione seem to have been getting along better recently, for whatever reason." He sounded fairly annoyed to be admitting that out loud.

Draco felt some relief at Ron's words. If Ron could see it that way, maybe Harry could too.

"What do you suppose your father wants with Harry?" said Ron, his brow creased with confusion, gazing off to where the two men had disappeared.

Draco looked off in the direction of the hallway. "Not sure. Maybe he wants to help somehow. He's grown a bit fond of Granger too."

Ron chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Me neither."

Ron appeared lost in thought. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and then started to speak, staring back at his feet.

"Just over a year and a half ago, Hermione went missing in a battle. We were trying to protect a Muggle neighbourhood from a Death Eater attack near Bristol."

"I remember that battle. My father and I were kept at home... We'd already started slipping down the ranks, I suppose, but I didn't realize it then. Thought they wanted to keep us safe," Draco snorted.

"Glad to hear you weren't there, honestly," said Ron. "It was a long battle. She was missing for three hours. The losses were heavy on both sides. Harry and I were freaking out. When we found her... Well... It was a pretty horrific sight."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He knew Ron was about to tell him what caused Hermione's breakdown, and if Ron's anxious fidgeting was anything to go by, it was serious.

"The Death Eaters had attacked a Muggle school, and she went in to save the kids, of course. Got cornered in a classroom with a whole group of children. The Death Eaters... They... " Ron trailed off, looking worn. "The sent a spell in through a window. Broke the glass. The spell killed the kids... Worked kinda like a Muggle gas chamber, I guess. 'Mione only survived because she knew the Bubble-Head charm, and cast it before she inhaled. The kids didn't stand a chance... Died immediately. She was trapped in there with all the bodies for hours until we figured out how to lift the locking spell."

Ron's words echoed around the space between them. Hermione... Magically locked in a room full of murdered children. Children she had been trying to save. It was enough to break anyone, but Hermione had the biggest heart Draco had ever seen. It must have _destroyed_ her.

Everything started to spin and Draco ran to the kitchen. He barely made it before he threw up, managing to get his head over the sink in time and completely emptying his stomach. He dry heaved several times after before collapsing in the floor, shaking from head to toe. His heart screamed for Hermione, for all those children who were caught in the middle of an ugly fight they didn't understand. They should never have been involved in the first place. And the Death Eaters responsible? Maybe Draco had been sheltered somehow, but he couldn't think of a single Death Eater who would have had the guts to pull that off. They were prejudiced, hateful people, but it was far more their style to take individual Muggles and torture them than it was to slaughter a room full of kids. Death Eaters were cowards who wanted power, by and large. They didn't have the stomach to be mass murderers. That was the Dark Lord's job. Draco could see that now.

Ron walked over and sat beside Draco on the floor. Draco tried not to dissect the action - he was grateful for the momentary lack of hostility.

"Who did it?" Draco choked out. "Who would _do_ that?"

"Called themselves the Morrati brothers. The Order tracked them down and killed them, but the damage had been done."

"Those brothers were insane," Draco said, trying to remember details about the pair. It had been ages since he thought about them, and he had been relieved when they went missing. "Even the Dark Lord called their methods 'unecessary' if you can believe it. Thought they were too flashy. Didn't like their style."

Ron nodded, unsurprised. "Yeah. We've never encountered Death Eaters who were that crazy. Plain old bloodlust. Just serial killers looking for a cause, maybe. Liked the psychological torture too. And it worked... 'Mione was a basket case. Screamed and shook for days. Stopped talking. Stopped eating. Tried to hurt herself. It was such a mess. She dreams about the kids every night, as you've probably figured out. And then her boyfriend was killed a few months later in a separate battle. Her parents had been killed the year before. She completely shut down."

"Her boyfriend... You mean Anthony? Is that why he left her the house? Because they were involved?" Draco had always been curious about the Healer Hermione had studied with. It made sense that they had been together, even if she hadn't said as much.

"Yeah. He was nuts about her. Sometimes I wonder if he didn't know he would be killed too... Put everything in her name, made sure she had anything she needed. Good guy. They hadn't even been together for all that long. Anyway, you can see why Harry and I were pretty amazed by her progress over the past few months. For a while there, we expected to lose her completely."

Draco sighed, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Probably also why you were upset that her improvement coincided with my father and I staying here."

Ron smiled weakly. "Admittedly, we weren't happy about that, but we probably overreacted a bit. As long as she gets better, there's not much we can do about her motivations. It's weird that her motivation ended up being you, but that's our fault, really. We were hoping that taking care of you both would help her, and it seemed to. It was good for her to have something to do. People who needed her more than just emotionally. She responded well knowing that you needed the curse worked out of you every day. She obviously took it seriously. Started to change for the better pretty fast."

They sat in silence, thinking over the details of their conversation. Draco decided he liked being Hermione's motivation. Would he continue to be now that the curse was gone? Would she ever make it back to them?

Eventually they heard Harry and Lucius coming back, and they stood up.

"Ron, Lucius is coming back to Headquarters with us," Harry said, looking somewhat calmer. "He's agreed to tell us everything he knows about the Death Eater operations and You-Know-Who instead of answering our specific requests, as we had agreed to before."

Draco shot a proud look to his father, who pretended not to notice. The terms of their rescue meant that Lucius had to answer very specific questions about the Dark Lord's work, but since Lucius had been part of the inner circle, he had far more knowledge that he could impart. He simply hadn't wanted to out of ingrained distrust for the Order. Hermione appeared to be enough of a reason to offer up the information.

"Malfoy, will you be okay here alone for a few hours?" Harry asked.

"No problem," he said with a shrug.

Harry, Ron and Lucius disappeared into the floo, leaving Draco to pass out on the couch, thinking of Hermione.

* * *

><p>Two days passed, and they found no sign of Bryce, nor of Hermione.<p>

Both Malfoys kept a constant vigil at the house, waiting by the floo and jumping at any small noise. Harry and Ron stopped in several times a day. Although the four men hadn't exactly grown friendly, Hermione's disappearance had united them in a strange way. They were no longer at each other's throats. They kept out of each other's way and sat in easy silence, subsisting once again on a steady stream of Molly Weasley's cooking. Draco missed Hermione more than he could express to anyone, and he was making himself ill thinking of what might be happening to her while they all sat around, fruitlessly searching for clues. He knew all too well what happened to the prisoners of Death Eaters. He shuddered to think about the state of her fragile mind, locked away in some cellar.

Wolf only dropped in to talk to Harry and Ron, looking more and more unwell with each visit. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was deathly pale. The handsome features that once defined him were lost under grief and anger.

Draco had the same dream both nights in a row. He was back on the couch, watching as Hermione finished his last treatment. He covered her hands with his, but instead of kissing her on the cheek, he brought his lips to hers immediately. She tasted like honey. He felt like he was melting in the best way possible, and wrapped his arms around her with a groan.

That's when he woke up each time. It left him feeling completely helpless, teeming with regret. He could have been kinder. He could have been braver. What if the worst had happened? What if she was dead? He would never be able to tell her how sorry he was. It was almost too much to handle.

He had become a nervous wreck, jittery and distant, his hands spilling his tea from shaking too much. Eventually, his half-hearted attempts to hide his miserable state were abandoned - he was beyond caring what anyone thought of him now. Even Harry and Ron noticed, sharing a sympathetic glance. They had never expected Draco Malfoy of all people to be so affected by Hermione.

The third night, Lucius had gone to bed early and Harry and Ron were at Headquarters. Draco was fiddling with the chess set when he heard the roar of the floo. He looked over, expecting to see Harry or Ron walk out.

Instead, a body came sliding out in a bloody heap, curled up in a ball.

_Granger_.

He was barely aware that he had leapt to his feet, shouting for his father. He hardly noticed his father yelling into the floo as Draco carefully extended her limbs, checking for damage, cringing at her blood-soaked clothes, her tangled hair and her blue lips. He checked for a pulse as if in a trance. It was there. Faint, but existent. His chest was aching.

He scarcely registered Rose running through the floo with Harry and Ron, whipping out her potions and shouting instructions at the boys. Hermione's body was whisked to her bedroom almost as quickly, levitated and rushed over as Rose lifted layer after layer of clothing off her.

Rose let the men stand in the open doorway, but insisted on being alone in the bedroom with Hermione while she worked at a record pace to stabilize her. Hermione was only in her knickers and her tank top now, and even those were stained with blood. Rose was completely concentrated, murmuring spells while she poured potions down Hermione's throat and slathered her in creams. Draco wondered if maybe he had misjudged Rose. She was healing Hermione with a fervour he would never have expected. He was grateful she was there. Anything to help Hermione.

Draco only noticed then, when he leaned back against the wall and let his mind catch up with what had just happened, that his cheeks were dripping wet.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Rose emerged from the room, wiping her hands on a cotton cloth.<p>

"She was tortured and beaten, but she's stable now. Not sure how it's affected her mentally yet... She's remained unconscious since she came out of the floo."

All four men sagged slightly at the news that she had been tortured. Draco noticed that Harry was blinking back tears as he angrily rubbed his scar. Ron swore under his breath. Draco felt a mix of fury and hopelessness with the situation. He needed to get into the room to check on Hermione himself. He only hoped that everyone in the hallway would find something else to do so he could slip in unnoticed. He felt an irrepressible need to be close to her, even if she was unconscious.

"Ron, we need to get to the lab again and see if we can find anything," Harry said, much to Draco's relief. "I think someone pushed her through the floo and sent her back here... Unless she was conscious when she stepped in and passed out in travel, someone helped her get back. We need to find out if they did it to scare us or if they did it to save her."

Ron nodded, his eyelids heavy. They trudged back towards the floo.

"See you Malfoy, Lucius," said Harry before he stepped into the flames. "And thank you, Rose."

Draco snuck a glance at his father, and then at Rose.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning," she said, glaring at him slightly. She left without another word.

Now it was just his father. Draco wondered if he should make up an excuse to distract Lucius from Hermione's room so he could slip in and see her. As if reading his thoughts, Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to get an early night, son. Go ahead in. If she wakes... Please... Please give her my best."

Draco didn't need any more encouragement. The door was slightly open, and he walked in quietly, closing it behind him.

She was under the covers now, lying flat on her back, her arms resting above the blankets by her side. The straps of a fresh cotton tank top were peeking out over her exposed shoulders. He didn't notice Rose changing her clothes - that girl was definitely smarter than he had given her credit for. Even Hermione's hair looked brushed out, and her skin was clean again, not a speck of blood or dirt to be seen.

He choked up, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Granger," he said. "I was so worried about you." He began to trace her fingers, remembering how nice it had felt to do so before. She was still incredibly soft.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, you know. None of it. I wasn't supposed to stop hating you. You weren't supposed to be so nice to me. You definitely weren't supposed to get kidnapped right when I start needing you. And I do, Granger. I need you. I think maybe you're addictive or something... It's like I feel ill when you're too far away for too long. I don't know why."

He looked at her sleeping face more closely, still tracing her fingers.

"Okay, maybe I do know why," he said, quietly. "But that part wasn't supposed to happen either."

His chest was still aching, but the pain was starting to subside. The ache made him nervous, because he knew it wasn't from the curse. It was from something scarier.

"My father feels terribly, Granger. I think he thought he was helping me or something stupid like that by saying what he did. Anyway, he knows he was wrong. It's hard for him too... Realizing that everything we fought for probably wasn't true. Makes him question everything. He's started helping the Order for real, you know. Let them give him Veritaserum. Gave them a goldmine of information, anything they asked for. That's all because of you."

Draco wondered briefly what he would have to do to get Hermione to let him touch her hands whenever he wanted. They felt like silk.

"I was going to kiss you, you know... That day before you disappeared. Did you know that? I think maybe you did. I hope you would have let me, but maybe not. Maybe it would have just upset you. I know I'm not the kind of bloke you'd normally go for. Heroes are more your thing, I think. I get that."

He continued in a whisper, running his finger down her cheek.

"I may not deserve you, but I could treat you so well, Granger. I could change. If you let me, I could change."

He sat there quietly for a while, just watching her face, feeling thankful that she was back in the house. He knew he should probably get himself to bed, but leaving her seemed crazy... What if she woke up and needed something? He had no idea if Rose had given her a sleeping potion... What if she had a night terror?

It was decided, then. Draco grabbed a spare pillow from Hermione's plush reading chair, stretched himself out on the ground, and fell asleep. As he drifted off, he didn't see Hermione's eyes flicker open briefly, and then shut again.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_To quote The Last Poison Apple: "sahjdgjhg." I think that is an excellent way of describing the previous chapter. Now, eleven chapters in and we're starting to get to the romance, not to mention an appearance from our (least?) favourite suspicious character... Wolf. A few of you are about to feel very good about your predictions. In unrelated news, please send along your good writing vibes... I'm working on a chapter that is giving me a bitch of a time. I'm on the fourth re-write. Makes me want to go all BAMF Malfoy on its ass, but then I'd be in the wrong story, and it's only a chapter after all. Sigh. __(Oh, PS, happy belated birthday chelssizzle!) (PPS, Your reviews, people! They are fucking gold! Love to you!)_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Draco woke up to the sound of someone clearing their throat. He bolted upright, his head spinning. Why was his bed so <em>hard<em>? It felt like he was sleeping on the fucking floor.

Harry, Ron, Lucius and Rose were all staring at him from the doorway of Hermione's room. He remembered the previous evening with startling clarity.

"Oh," he croaked. "Right. Was worried about night terror... Didn't want to take a chance..."

Ron looked like he was about to blow. Lucius looked... Amused. Harry clearly did not believe him. Rose was just looking at Ron. _Curious_.

"Don't get your back up, Weasel," Draco said, his voice returning. "I _am_ on the floor, you know. I'm not affronting anyone's dignity."

Ron stomped off, and Rose followed.

"Alright Malfoy, get up. We need to talk," said Harry.

Draco groaned and stood, catching a quick look at Hermione before he left the room. She hadn't changed at all from the night before. That was probably a good thing; that meant she wasn't getting any worse, at least.

He brushed past his father without meeting his smug eyes and followed Harry into the spare room.

"What is it, Potter?" Draco, said, crossing his arms over his chest, annoyed. He was a little embarrassed about being caught in Hermione's room, and this "chat" wasn't helping his mood.

"What's the deal, Malfoy?" Harry responded. "What is this thing you've got for Hermione? Is it an act? Are you for real? Because it seems to me that you actually like her, and I want to hear it from your lips if you do."

Draco huffed. He only had the courage to tell Hermione about his feelings when she was asleep. Why did Harry think he would just spill his guts to _him _of all people?

"I don't see why it concerns you," Draco said. "What's important is that I don't hate her anymore. I want her to be safe, and happy, and whatever else she wants to be, okay? Now just back the fuck off."

Harry stared at him.

"You really do like her," he gaped. "You _like her_ like her."

"Merlin's balls Potter, I'm not having this discussion with you!" Draco snapped, making a move for the door. He was starting to hate the meddlesome scarhead again. So he liked her. What was the big deal? Why did anyone need to know about it? Shouldn't they be more concerned about catching the maniac who kidnapped her?

Harry locked the door with a flick of his wand.

"I don't think so. I think you're going to tell me how you feel. Not because you really want to, of course, that I can understand... You probably don't want to tell anyone at all. But there's a psycho out there trying to hurt her and I have to know if you're serious about your intentions."

"I don't _have_ any intentions," he sneered. "She probably wouldn't want me anyway. I'm not exactly prime boyfriend material, am I? Not like her bloody Healer or whomever else she's been with. But yeah, since you won't let me out of here until I talk, if she were interested, I'd be deadly fucking serious. She deserves no less."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Didn't think you'd actually come out and say it, honestly," he said.

Draco just glared at him. Potter had made him say it out loud and now he couldn't take it back. The more he thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed. The brand on his arm proved it. His life choices proved it. He didn't deserve her.

"You've got nothing to worry about, Potter," Draco said, eventually, sounding defeated and angry. "She'd never have me anyway. I'm sure you know that. Can I go now?"

Harry nodded and waved his wand at the door.

"I won't tell anyone, Malfoy," he said, sounding a bit apologetic.

"Good," he growled, and stormed out of the room.

* * *

><p>He joined his father in the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.<p>

"Don't say anything," Draco snapped.

"If you insist," Lucius said, turning a page of his book.

Ron and Rose weren't around, and Draco guessed they were checking up on Hermione.

He stood up abruptly and put some water on for tea, pacing the small length of the kitchen while the element heated up the kettle.

"Anxious, are we?" said his father, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I just want everyone to leave," Draco grumbled. "I want her to wake up. And I want the person responsible for hurting her to fucking die."

Lucius nodded his understanding just as Ron, Rose and Harry walked into the room.

"She's doing well," said Rose. "Just a matter of waiting until she wakes up now."

Draco ignored the stares from Harry and Ron, and held Rose's gaze. "Okay. Thanks."

"There's one thing," Rose continued. "You made a good point about the night terrors. I actually can't give her a sleeping potion with everything else she's on, so they may come back. You'll have to be careful. She'll go through some withdrawal, too."

Draco shrugged. He could manage it. He could take care of her, even if nobody else believed he could.

The trio left, Harry throwing him one last curious gaze before he vanished into the fireplace.

"Draco..." said his father as he started to walk in the direction of Hermione's room.

"Not in the mood, father."

He stepped into her room and closed the door behind him. For whatever reason, he needed to be here. She looked the same... Very still, very beautiful.

"Granger," he breathed.

He sat himself down in her reading chair and grabbed the closest book. _The Healing Powers of the Brain_. Seemed okay to him. He just wanted to be near her. He didn't really care what he was reading. Opening up to the first page, he began.

He was fully engrossed and three chapters in when he heard it.

"Malfoy?" said a surprised voice.

His eyes shot up to see Hermione blinking at him. He took a shocked breath. With a calm that amazed him, he put down the book, stood up, and walked to her side. Sitting down on the bed, he leaned over her and brought his face over hers, his eyes drinking her in. She was smiling softly.

"I've missed you," he said, not trusting himself to say more.

She didn't respond. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. The smile never left her face. Something clenched in his chest. He felt like everything was slowing down.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, touching him lightly, searching his face with her eyes. He shuddered happily. He didn't know what to make of her actions. She was being so... Affectionate. He decided he would be crazy to question it.

"You're okay. You're... You're lucid," he said quietly.

She nodded.

"Are you in a lot of pain?"

She grimaced a bit. "It's manageable."

She continued to touch his hair, his face, his shoulders, as if she was letting her hands reaquaint themselves with the feeling of his body. She moved slowly, almost languidly, feathering over his skin. Draco didn't care what her reasons were - it felt incredible. He let out a gratified sigh as his eyes drifted shut. What on earth had brought this on? This was everything he'd ever dared to hope for. As her hand snaked its way around the back of his neck, he let his head drop a little lower so that their foreheads were almost touching. When she didn't object, he dropped his head all the way to rest in between her shoulder and her neck, breathing in the smell of jasmine. Her small arms lifted and wrapped themselves around his back, holding him there quietly.

_Yes_, whimpered his brain. _Fuck yes_.

Overwhelming emotions rushed through him and he fought not to analyze them. He just wanted to be in the moment. _Thank God she's awake_.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. They clung to each other, not saying a word.

Something occurred to Draco, and he raised his head slightly. "Did you want me to floo Potter and Weasley? They'll probably want to talk to you about everything."

"Maybe in five?" she said. He smiled and dropped his head back down to rest on her shoulder.

"I was really scared, Granger," he said.

"Me too," she said.

* * *

><p>"I told you, I was drugged the entire time, I never saw the man's face, and somebody tossed me into the floo before I lost consciousness again," Hermione repeated, sounding tired. Her body was aching and she hated talking about something she could barely recall. "I have vague memories of the torture and the violence, but the drugs kind of numbed everything. I don't even remember being taken in the first place."<p>

Harry, Ron, Tonks, Remus and Mad-Eye were all sitting in the living room looking frustrated. Draco was sitting next to Hermione on the couch, with Lucius on her other side.

"Hermione," said Mad-Eye. "If you could just try and - "

"She doesn't know anything more!" Draco said, erupting with anger. "Can't you see she's exhausted? Leave her alone and go follow your other fucking leads!"

Remus looked like he was about to argue, but Harry put his hand on his arm. "Malfoy's right. Sorry 'Mione... Get some rest and we'll come by again tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded. After the group left, she turned to him with a tired smile. "Thank you. I hate having so many people here, and all my memories are a blur anyway."

He smiled back. "You're welcome. They're a bunch of tossers." Her smile turned into a grin and Lucius looked between the two of them curiously.

"Would you like some tea?" Draco asked. He had gotten used to fetching it for himself, and he felt like she deserved to be waited on a bit.

"Sure," Hermione said.

"Father?"

"Yes, thank you."

Draco left to go put on the kettle.

"Miss Granger..."

"Hermione, please Lucius."

"Hermione, of course. Old habits die hard." He hesitated briefly, and then met her gaze. "I'd like to apologise for the inexcusable things I said before your disappearance. I'm a very foolish old man who was raised to believe some rather unpleasant nonsense, but that is no excuse for upsetting you. I sincerely hope you can forgive me. I've considered the matter, and I would be very pleased if you and Draco remained... Close. In whatever capacity you choose to be."

Hermione looked at him with surprise.

"Thank you Lucius. That means a lot."

He smiled warmly. "Besides, Draco is a grown man now. He doesn't need his father to tell him who he can and cannot love."

With that, Lucius stood up and joined Draco in front of the stove as he prepared the tea.

Hermione was too shocked by Lucius's choice of words to respond, her mouth hanging open. _Love?_ She had come to terms with the fact that Draco liked her, and that she liked him back - not that they'd ever properly discussed it. She had heard most of his confession the other night as she was regaining consciousness, and had to suppress her own shivers of pleasure as he promised he could be good to her... Not to mention their extended embrace earlier when she had woken up. The embrace that seemed to just _happen_. It didn't feel uncomfortable or strange. She wanted to hold him and he wanted to bury his face in her neck. It was like a warm secret they both had and would never mention to anyone. A strange, hidden affection. But _love?_

That word hadn't entered the equation yet. She had a lot more to think about now.

Her train of thought was broken as Draco set down a steaming cup of tea in front of her.

"For you, Granger," he said, cheerfully.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she smiled.

Yes indeed. Lots to think about.

* * *

><p>The two Malfoys and Hermione were all reading in the living room when Wolf arrived unexpectedly. Hermione was sitting next to Draco, which was the only reason he was able to feel her tense up when her employer walked out of the fireplace. It was minute, but it was there. Her muted distress put him on edge, and he inched towards her ever so slightly, his arm touching hers.<p>

"Hermione," Wolf said with relief, smiling broadly. He looked like he had gotten some sleep, but the ordeal had definitely aged him.

"Wolf," she said, smiling back. "It's good to see you."

He leaned in and took her hand in his, kissing it softly. Draco slowly clenched his fists, knowing that it wouldn't pay to cause a scene, but desperately wanting to beat this man away from Hermione. She smiled nervously at the gesture and cleared her throat. It was obvious to both Malfoys that she was uncomfortable.

_Fuck off Wolf, she doesn't want you_.

"Won't you sit down?" she said, pointing to the chair across the coffee table from her. Draco smirked. She didn't want him anywhere near her. _Good_. There was something he didn't like about Wolf. Sure, he resented being accused of Hermione's attack, but he also simply didn't trust the man.

He was also fairly sure Wolf was smitten with Hermione, and Draco wasn't going to hide how he felt about that. He liked her more, and Wolf would have to stay away until Draco found the guts to actually tell her so.

"So Wolf, any news on Bryce? Do they know if he was responsible?" she asked, trying to start a conversation, even if the topic was unpleasant.

Wolf scowled. "Actually, we received an anonymous tip today relating to his whereabouts. The Order is following up as we speak."

Hermione expressed her surprise and continued chatting politely with him as Draco tuned the conversation out. He was busy watching Wolf. There was something _off_ about the man. There had been for a while. By chance, he glanced over at his father and saw that Lucius was staring at Wolf too, a deep frown on his face.

_What does my father see?_

Draco turned his attention back to Wolf, staring harder now. Looking for details.

There it was.

A twitch. His eyebrow, and occasionally his hand.

Another one.

Draco sucked in a breath. He had seen people twitching like that before. Hell, he had _caused_ them to twitch like that. It was a classic sign of someone under the _Imperius_ and trying to fight it off.

_My God_. _He's just a puppet_.

He had to tell Hermione. He had to warn her. She couldn't go back to that lab. Maybe she could stun him...

"Anyway, I'd best be leaving," Wolf said suddenly, standing up. "I'm relieved you are okay, Hermione. I was deeply concerned. When will you be coming back to work?"

"Oh, uh, I'm not sure yet," she smiled. "Still under orders to rest, I'm afraid. I'll let you know when I've heard more, okay?"

Wolf nodded with a smile. He then looked at the two Malfoys and scowled before stepping into the floo.

"Hermione!" both Malfoys practically shouted at once. She jumped, startled.

"I'm sorry, but..." Draco looked desperately at his father. He had no idea how to tell her without causing her extreme distress. Her mind seemed stronger than it had ever been, but he didn't want to be the reason it faltered. Lucius took over, much to his relief.

"Hermione," Lucius said, gently. "Draco and I noticed something odd about your employer when he was speaking with you."

She swallowed heavily. "I feel uneasy around him now. I didn't used to."

"Well, you have keen instincts. I don't want to alarm you, but I'm unsure how to avoid it. We suspect he's under the _Imperious_ curse."

There was a dead silence as Hermione processed Lucius's statement.

"So... So my kidnapping... It was him?"

"Or he's involved," Draco said, cutting in. "This Bryce bloke could also be under the influence of the curse. It's hard to know who might have done what, but Potter and Weasley can look into it once we tell them our suspicions."

"Oh," she said, quietly. Tears began to run down her face, but she still just sat there, looking shocked. Lucius stood up and went to grab her some tissue.

She let out a choked sob.

"I don't know who to trust anymore," she cried, turning her eyes on him and looking slightly panicked. "I trusted Wolf, he was my friend, and he may be responsible for torturing me. What am I supposed to do?"

"You can trust me," Draco said, wiping her cheeks with his fingers. "You can. I hope you know that." He wondered if he should kiss her on the cheek again. He certainly wanted to.

She sniffed and nodded. "I know, I know. I do trust you."

Draco looked around. His father still wasn't back yet. He made a decision.

Leaning in, bringing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "I care about you very much, Granger." Fuck, now he had done it. He vacillated between being terrified of rejection to being elated that she said she trusted him. He had finally told her he cared about her. She could interpret that any way she wanted. As friends or as something more. It was just vague enough, but it still meant something.

Merlin, he was scared.

She gave him a watery smile. "The feeling's mutual, Malfoy."

Draco gaped.

"It... It is? Wait... What kind of caring do you - "

"Some tissue for the lady," said Lucius, walking back towards them.

"Thank you, Lucius. I'm sorry to be such a blubbering mess," she said, turning away from Draco and grabbing the box from his father. Draco wanted to scream.

"Not at all. I understand that this must be quite trying for you."

She nodded, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose.

"I should try to contact Harry and Ron. Everyone's in danger if Wolf is under the _Imperious_," she said, standing up.

Draco had to restrain himself from grabbing her arm and pulling her back down. They weren't done talking! She can't tell him she cares about him and then not elaborate! What if... What if they both felt the same way? What if there was an actual chance for him?

She stuck her head into the floo and he talked himself down from his hysterical inner ledge. He had to be respectful. There were, as much as he was loathe to admit it, more important things to worry about than his feelings towards a certain witch.

He watched her as she argued into the flames to someone at Headquarters.

_The feeling is mutual_. Would she still say that if she knew how deeply his feelings ran?

"Keep staring at her like that son and she'll get the picture," said his father from behind him. Draco jumped and then narrowed his eyes at his smirking father.

"What picture, pray tell?"

"Now son, don't play dumb with me. It's unbecoming." Lucius leaned in and whispered in Draco's ear. "We both know you're in love with the girl."

Draco's eyes widened. "Father, I never said anything about - "

"Love? Please. It's written all over your face. Don't delude yourself."

Draco snapped his gaping mouth shut. How was he supposed to respond to that?

"I've come to terms with it, by the way," Lucius said, casually, inspecting his nails. "She's a lovely girl. I'm very happy for both of you."

"Even if that were true, _which it's not_, father, I highly doubt she could attach such a loaded word to whatever it is she feels about me," Draco hissed, looking nervously in Hermione's direction. She was still using the floo, oblivious to the conversation going on behind her.

"Son, the way you were looking at her just now? It's the same way she looks at you when you're reading, or playing a game of chess. Have a gander next time if you don't believe me. She's just as transparent as you."

Hermione pulled her head out of the fireplace and stood up.

"Harry and Ron will be here soon... Will you both be able to tell them what you saw?"

"Of course my dear," said Lucius with a smile.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll whip us up a quick dinner... I have a feeling it will be a long night."

Draco watched her wander over to the kitchen as his heart pounded away inside his chest.

Did he...? Did she...?

Bloody hell, he was no good at this.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Hi lovelies. Are you feeling stressed lately? Too much work or school? Having trouble with your kids / parents / friends / lovers? Maybe I can help. I offer you a fluffy(ish) chapter from the bottom of my heart, because soon we'll be slipping into angst again, and I feel like you could use some warm and fuzzies today. Am I right? Still totally crushing on your reviews, BTW. You are all charming as fuck. And that's a good thing. Oh, and your good writing vibes pushed me through the Chapter From Hell, so we're on the other side now. Yesss! Muchas gracias._

_xo_

_Galfoy _

* * *

><p>Hermione made pasta, and the trio sat around the table quietly eating while they waited for Harry and Ron. The wards had been changed; Hermione had seen to it while the noodles were cooking, so there was no chance of Wolf coming back anytime soon. She looked calmer and only a little distant as she speared her noodles, a small frown on her face. Her tear tracks were slightly visible as they dried on her cheeks.<p>

Draco thought she looked beautiful.

He was fidgeting with a piece of spaghetti, finally giving up when it fell apart under his fingers in a starchy mess. He needed to talk to Hermione alone. He _needed_ to. He thought things would be cleared up when he told her he cared about her... That it would be out in the open, and she could see that he was genuine about whatever it was they had. That he had changed. But now? He simply hadn't expected her response. She cared about him too, and he needed to know how much. He felt like he might suffocate if he didn't find out. _As a friend or more?_ It could change everything. Friend or more. They were worlds apart.

Gods, his chest was aching again.

In retrospect, "care" was a frustratingly ambiguous word. He was starting to understand why his father insisted on using the stronger, more intimidating variation of that sentiment.

Draco had never felt particularly loved. His mother had loved him, he knew, his father too in his own cold way. But he'd never made good friends in school, and the women he'd been involved with over the years were around for purely physical reasons. A quick shag, an acquaintance with benefits. Always other Purebloods. Always remaining unattached, even in the heat of it. Draco had built up hefty walls that served as a buffer for anything he found emotionally challenging, namely his activities as a Death Eater, and the fact that he was essentially bereft of real, connected relationships. He hadn't let any of that bother him because he had been on a quest for power. It had eclipsed the gaping holes in his life, filling them in with the need to rule over others. Power was a strong and obsessive motivator. He'd only caught fleeting glances of what it must be like to be truly needed, appreciated and protected. He had seen it as a weakness until now.

But could Hermione ever feel that way about _him_? He was stunned that she admitted to caring about him at all, and maybe that ought to be enough. Still, the tiny chance that she might like him as more than a friend... Despite their history... Despite his past...

Could she believe that he had changed?

He looked down at his arm and saw the Dark Mark peeking out from under his sleeve. Draco had been _so proud_ when he finally got the Mark, showing it off like some sort of prize, like a fucking trophy. It was the embodiment of everything he thought he was entitled to. It was his free pass to be a monster, and he revelled in it, embracing the Dark with his badge burned onto his arm. Now? It disgusted him. It separated him from Hermione. It risked her respect and her ability to give him a chance. It could ruin everything, all the changes he'd gone through, all these painful little epiphanies that were rubbing away at his jagged edges.

Why would she take a chance on that? When she was surrounded by the fucking Order, people with values and beliefs she held in high regard... Why would she take a chance on _him_?

He slammed down his fork angrily and everyone at the table jumped. He cringed, not meaning to have made such a scene. Hermione looked at him questioningly, and Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean for that to be so loud."

Hermione smiled sadly at him. "It's been a stressful evening."

She stood up to clear their plates, and with the roar of the floo, Harry and Ron came hurrying out.

"We heard the news," Ron panted, angrily. "That's fucking barmy. I'm going to murder Wolf myself when we catch him."

Harry looked livid, and Draco could only imagine how much he was blaming himself right now for trusting the man who had nearly killed Hermione.

"We found Bryce... Or Bryce's body, anyway," Ron continued, rubbing his eyes roughly. "We're guessing Wolf is responsible for that too, but we're still trying to figure out why Bryce became a target."

"Could we ask you two about Wolf? Get the details of what you saw?" Harry said tensely, gesturing to the couch. Lucius nodded and began to make his way over. Harry and Ron were exchanging angry murmurs with each other, no doubt plotting Wolf's painful death. Draco took the opportunity to talk to Hermione while they were distracted.

"Granger... Could I speak with you after this?" Draco asked quietly as he helped her finish clearing the table.

"Of course," she said, taking his arm and steering him towards the couch. "But for now, please talk to Harry and Ron so they calm down. I don't like seeing them like this."

He nodded, and let himself be led over. She was touching his arm. She cared about him.

"Do you guys need me, or can I be left out of this conversation? I just want to lie down for a minute. I feel pretty drained," she said as Draco sat down on the couch, mourning the loss of her hand on his arm.

"'Course 'Mione," said Ron with a smile. "We'll come say goodbye before we leave."

She nodded and left the room.

Draco watched her walk away until he noticed that Harry was staring at him with a knowing expression on his face.

Draco scowled. Maybe he really was that transparent. He looked back down the hallway, and Hermione was gone. _Damn_.

* * *

><p>Hermione hadn't gone to lie down, despite what she had said. She had gone to the library. Surrounded by her books, breathing in the still air, the musty smell of aging paper and ink, she began to relax. It was time to sort out her thoughts, and there were a lot of them.<p>

First, it was time to acknowledge that her brain felt more normal than it had since before Harry and Ron pulled her out of that hellish classroom. She hadn't slipped into a static daze in ages, and she was getting better at speaking to people again. She still hated big groups, and had trouble with stress, but it didn't cause an automatic shutdown anymore. It was a big change. A huge step.

Second, Wolf had become a bad guy. The news broke Hermione's heart. She hadn't considered him to be a serious threat, proof that her battle-honed instincts were waning, despite what Lucius had said. She should have picked up the signs herself. Thank heavens for the Malfoys - they had saved her. Hermione had still been trusting Wolf like she would any friend, even when she started to get a strange vibe from him. True, he was acting under the influence of another, but the _Imperious_ is deadly strong and he was very much not himself anymore. He wasn't the Wolf she knew. Definitely not the Wolf who had shown a much softer side of himself when she was injured. She had to treat him as the threat he was, even though her good friend lay under the damage of the spell. It was not safe to be anywhere near him, which meant the end of her job, and her indefinite isolation in this house. Oddly, she didn't exactly mind that part.

Third, and most importantly, there was the matter of that beautiful and moody man in the other room. The one she had spent so much of her life feeling guarded around, fighting with, hating. And now? Now she was falling for him. Oh yes, she knew it was true. It would be pointless to deny it at this point. As weird as it was, his moodiness and hostility almost made her trust him _more_... He wasn't polite enough to lie to her. He said what he meant, always. And that's why his confession moments ago meant _so damn much_ - Draco Malfoy didn't expose himself emotionally for just anyone. She knew how rare, how amazing that was. There was no way she would disregard it.

She thought of her coffee percolator analogy again... Little drips of good behaviour, affection, conversation and curiosity had created a brew of something completely intoxicating. She remembered how he was months ago when he was first rescued. A hateful, spiteful killer. Her enemy. A bigot. A ruthless bully. Surprisingly familiar.

She had assumed he wouldn't change. It's what she expected of him. She was prepared for that.

But strangely, when the hate was stripped away, and the curiosity began, they ended up being very well suited for one another. Both smart, both passionate, both completely lost. Draco soaked up her care like a sponge, probably having never experienced something genuine like that in his life. She in turn began to love caring for him, and the quirky conversations that came with it. Despite never having seen herself as being terribly domestic, she discovered that she rather enjoyed looking after Draco, and his father too. It gave her a sense of purpose. It gave her an excuse to get to know them both. And Merlin, was there ever more to what met the eye. Those two were as complex as the Hogwarts wards.

Then Draco had actually come out and said he cared about her. She had never seen him look so nervous. He probably meant for it to be ambiguous, but Hermione knew what he meant because she felt it too.

She could tell he was scared. Draco was many things, but he was not terribly brave. Falling for someone like her, a Muggle-born, was not a simple matter for him. Fuck, she was scared too, and she actually _understood_ how to care for people other than herself. He was probably flailing around in the dark, only able to talk about it when he thought she was asleep. Thank Merlin his father seemed to have relented on his Pureblood nonsense - _that _certainly wasn't helping Draco come to terms with his new reality.

Well, he wanted to talk for real this time, and she would talk. She would be honest... Her feelings for him had gone beyond friendship. What else could she say? It was the truth. They could decide where to go from there, if anywhere. She had trouble picturing what the future could look like for them - this was a war. You don't _date_ in a war. You don't have normal, predictable relationships when people are dying all around you. Their combined baggage might be enough to kill this thing before it even got started. Not to mention Harry and Ron...

Hermione shrugged to herself. Her life held very little hope these days... She was a jittery, confused mess at the best of times. Everyone she loved was a target, _she _was a target, every day was a gamble. It was worth trying for something that gave her hope, no matter how unconventional.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron eventually came to say goodbye, spouting assurances that they would find Wolf and stop him from harming anyone else. She nodded absently. She knew as soon as Wolf got wind of it, he'd be well out of reach from the Order.<p>

Hermione gathered her courage and left the library, hoping to find Draco. Lucius was reading one of his astrology magazines on the couch, but there was nobody else around.

"He's in the backyard," said Lucius, looking up from the page.

She nodded her thanks and began to walk towards the glass doors.

"Hermione?" came Lucius's voice.

"Yes?" she said, looking over her shoulder.

"Do go easy on him. He's new at this." Lucius was obviously trying hard to keep his expression blank, but Hermione could detect a bit of fatherly concern in his comment. She was only mildly surprised that he seemed to know what was going on.

"I don't think he'll find much to be upset about in what I have to say, honestly," said Hermione, gently.

Lucius smiled then, a rare unguarded smile that made him look years younger. "I'm glad to hear it."

Turning the handle, she walked out into the night air.

"Malfoy?" she said, spotting his white-blond hair in the far end of the yard. He was looking at the stars.

"Granger," he said in greeting as she walked up beside him, but still not taking his eyes off the sky. His voice was scratchy.

Finally, he turned to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. They were shaking slightly.

"I have something to ask you, Granger, and I'm admittedly a little... A little... I'm not very... " he trailed off, anxiously.

"Go ahead, it's just me," she said, studying his face. Had he always been this handsome? Christ, he was giving her butterflies.

He gave a dry chuckle and echoed her comment, muttering, "Just you. Right."

He cleared his throat.

"Listen, Granger... When you said you cared about me earlier... Did you mean... As a friend?"

"Yes," she said, and saw his shoulders slump.

"And as more than a friend too," she added, shyly.

She could see his eyebrows rise, and his mouth open in surprise.

Suddenly _she_ felt nervous. "It... It just happened," she stammered, back-pedalling. "I know I'm not your ideal - "

"Oh fuck Granger, don't finish that ridiculous sentence," he said, an astonished smile on his face. "Against all odds, you _are_ my ideal. Look, I know there's a war on, and I know I can't do all the normal dating stuff you deserve, but I don't want to waste any time pretending I don't feel what I do. I'm... I'm not very good at this but... Will you give me a chance? I can be good to you, Granger. I can treat you well. Will you let me try?"

Hermione felt her lips tremble, to her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she said, choking back a sob. "It's just been a while since someone... You know... I'd sort of given up hope, especially after everything that's happened, and I thought you would always hate me - "

"I've been a daft sod, Granger," he said, shaking his head sadly. "But I'm trying to change. The person I used to be seems like some sort of distant nightmare now."

"You have changed, Malfoy," she said, wiping her eyes and smiling. "I can see it. Everyone can see it."

He beamed at her, and she felt like her heart might actually be shining inside her chest. She let out a nervous giggle.

"How bizarre is this, honestly?" she said.

"Completely bizarre," he whispered. Then he leaned in very gently, and kissed her.

It was a soft kiss, feather soft, their lips moving lightly against one another's. She could smell sandalwood and almond oil, and her fondness for the scent almost made her cry again. _This_ was Malfoy. Rich sophistication and unexpected sweetness. Her fingers traveled up to his soft hair and buried themselves there. Lean, muscular arms wrapped themselves around her, pressing her against his torso. His hands had bunched themselves into her shirt, twisting the fabric as the kiss deepened. She felt her tongue brush against his.

Granger smelled like jasmine again. It was faint, but so bloody intoxicating Draco wanted to wrap himself around her. He'd never kissed this softly before, but then he'd never kissed anyone with so much _feeling_ before. He wanted to savour every single push of her lips, every movement. Her hands raked through his hair and he just about died... Everything she did felt incredible. _This _was a kiss? Merlin, what had he been missing all this time?

Her tongue brushed his and he groaned. Sweet Merlin, she was as soft as silk. The kiss deepened and became more desperate, soft movements replaced by frenzied touching and grasping, both trying to get closer to each other. Hermione let out a whimper and nipped his lower lip, which elicited a growl from Draco as he slid both his hands over her bum and pulled her flush against him. Hermione gasped as he pulled his mouth away from hers and began kissing her neck, moving down to her collarbone with small licks and nips of his teeth. They were both panting when he raised his head and looked her straight in the eye, his cheeks flushed.

"I don't want to rush anything with you, Granger... I want you to be comfortable with anything we do," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "We don't need to do any more right now if you want to take this slowly."

She nodded, having trouble speaking. He was right, of course... It was just difficult to stop when everything he did felt this _good_. It was some consolation that he looked particularly regretful to be stopping.

"Yeah," she eventually forced out. "Makes sense. Slow is good."

They shared one more long kiss before they broke away, his hands sliding down her arms to capture her fingers. Bringing them up to his mouth, he kissed each one.

"Thank you for giving me a chance, Granger," he breathed.

Instead of responding, she kissed him on the cheek with a smile. It felt so strange to be able to be like this with him, but her body was thrumming with happiness, and she knew it was right. _They_ were right, somehow. "Shall we head back inside?"

Lucius was still reading his magazine when they slipped back in through the glass doors.

"Nice night?" he asked, innocently.

"Lovely," said Hermione, blushing. "I'm going to bed... I'll see you both in the morning?"

"Goodnight Granger," said Draco with a soft smile.

"Goodnight Malfoy, Lucius," she said, not taking her eyes off Draco as she spoke. She disappeared into her bedroom and Draco went to sit beside his father on the couch.

"Merlin," Draco said to the room at large.

Lucius smirked into his magazine.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_I'm glad you guys liked the fluff! There's a little more in here for you before the shit hits the proverbial fan. And I'm also glad you're appreciating the daily updates... As long as you guys are reviewing, I promise to continue writing as quickly as my fingers can manage. (Although it was interesting to see that there were fewer reviews this time around... Maybe fluff doesn't inspire commentary as much? Hmmm...) SPEAKING OF WHICH! Midnight Rose 97 asked a really good question about my "secret" to daily posts. I wrote a response, but holy hell it was long, so I've put it in my FAQ on my profile. Feel free to go check it out if you want to know more about how I write and how I stay motivated (spoiler: you guys play a big part in the answer)._

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>When Draco jolted awake to the sound of Hermione's panicked screaming, he cursed himself a million times over for forgetting about her night terrors. He had fallen asleep in such a happy daze that her tortured dreams had completely slipped his mind. One quick snog and he was already failing at taking care of her. She'd given him a chance and he<em> still <em>wasn't fucking worthy. Filled with self-loathing and jumping to his feet, he ran to her bedroom.

_Get there before she hurts herself. Get there before she hurts anyone else._

He threw open the door and found her crammed into the corner like last time, her eyes open and no doubt seeing visions of murdered children. Blood ran down her arms from where her nails had torn the skin, and her cheeks were dripping with tears.

She shrieked and sobbed, trying to push herself even deeper into the corner. Draco took a couple of careful steps towards her, his hands out in what he hoped was a placating gesture.

"Granger, it's me..."

"They're just kids!" she howled. "You monsters!"

"I know," he said, feeling helpless. He had been a monster. He used to be proud to call himself one. What a fucking joke on him. "I know, Granger. I'm so sorry. You're okay now."

"Just kids," she cried a little more quietly. "Muggle or not, they're still somebody's children. Somebody loves them. Somebody needs them."

Draco felt a strange spasm in his chest that he was sure must have been his heart breaking. Oh God, no wonder her brain had shut down. He couldn't even imagine what she had gone through. No matter how well she had started coping during the day, the truth slithered out at night. She was haunted by this. She probably always would be.

He had reached the bed now, and crawled onto it slowly. He wanted to get to her before she bolted. He couldn't let her get her hands on a weapon again. She continued to sob into her hands, the blood from her arms staining her t-shirt.

"It's me, Granger. It's Draco. I'll take care of you, okay?"

He put his hand on her ankle and she flinched, suddenly going quiet. It wasn't a calm silence. He knew what was coming and gritted his teeth.

She jumped from the corner in an attempt to get away, scrambling to get off the bed. He blocked her with his body, grabbing her arms as she clawed at him. She bit, kicked, screamed and cried, but he held her down, flipping her onto her back and pinning her underneath him.

"Granger... Please Granger... " he grunted, amazed at how hard she was fighting him. He took an elbow to the cheek and winced in pain, but didn't let go.

"Monsters..." she choked out.

"I know, love. I'm so sorry."

Her struggling began to weaken, and eventually she was just crying underneath him, her sobs muffled into his shoulder. He had no idea if she was even aware that he was there.

When he was sure she had calmed down enough, he maneuvered himself around her so that they were on their sides, their torsos flush and his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her petite body was shaking against his, and he wondered briefly how Weasley and Potter had done it. How had they held it together when this happened every night? When they would have to revive her after a suicide attempt she was only foggily aware of making? How did they handle seeing this girl self destruct? He would never admit it to them, but lying there in Hermione's bed, holding her in his arms, he gained grudging respect for the pair. Draco figured he would fall apart if he had to see her come loose at the seams nearly every time she went to sleep. It's no wonder they had chosen addiction over seeing her unravel.

It's then that Draco made the decision that Hermione shouldn't sleep alone anymore. If she allowed it, he would stay with her, even if it was on the floor. He would catch her earlier next time. He would calm her down. He would protect her from herself.

The door creaked open and Draco saw his father look in.

"Is she alright?" Lucius said, his voice gravelly with sleep, his eyes drifting over the sight of his son restraining the sobbing girl.

"Tore up her arms again, but I think she'll be okay," Draco said, not relinquishing his hold on her. "I'm staying here tonight," he added, firmly.

"I would expect no less," said Lucius in a tired voice. "Goodnight."

* * *

><p>When Draco woke up, Hermione was still in his arms, but her eyes were open and she was gazing at his face. She had clearly been watching him sleep. He wondered how long she had been up for.<p>

"Your cheek is bruised," she said, sadly.

"S'fine," he mumbled. "Doesn't hurt."

"I'm sorry anyway," she said, looking guilty.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead. He liked that he was able to do that now without over-thinking it.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she whispered. His heart did a weird fluttery thing.

She healed her arms as breakfast was cooking.

"Feeling alright, Hermione?" said Lucius, trying to sound light but failing. Instead he sounded worried. They were all seated around the table as she sewed up some of the larger gashes along her inner arm. It was an unpleasant thing to watch.

"Thanks to your son, I'm great," she said, calmly. "These scratches are nothing compared to what I've done before." She smiled warmly at Draco and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I did what I had to do, Granger," he said. He knew he wasn't a hero. He used to identify with the people who did this to her. He didn't want anyone's thanks.

"No, you did what you chose to do," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "There's a difference."

She stood up and grabbed a tube of cream from the nearby cupboard. Squeezing some onto her fingers, she walked over to him and dabbed the cool mixture on his cheek.

Draco couldn't help himself. He let his eyes slide shut and enjoyed the feeling. Her free hand rested softly on his shoulder. Her fingers moved across the bruise so gently, he barely felt it. But the sentiment that came with the touch, the sheer amount of _care_ she gave him, made his chest ache in a pleasant way. All her attention was on him, and he soaked it up gratefully. He'd gotten so used to this when she healed him from the curse, he was surprised to see that he missed the contact.

"That should help," she said, putting the cap back on.

"Thanks, Granger," Draco said, colour flushing his cheeks.

She squeezed his shoulder with a smile.

* * *

><p>That night, Draco hovered around Hermione's door, trying to decide how to broach the topic with her. He didn't want to give the wrong impression - he wanted to sleep in her room to protect her from the night terrors, not for any other reason. <em>Mostly<em>.

He heard her shuffling around inside and cleared his throat.

"Granger?"

The door opened, revealing Hermione in a cotton t-shirt and shorts.

"Hm?" she said, brushing out her hair.

"I, uh, I was thinking, and maybe it would be better if I slept in your room in case you have another night terror. On the floor, of course... I don't want you to worry about my, uh, intentions, but I just thought - "

"Malfoy," she said, cutting him off with an amused grin. "Of course you can stay. But to be honest, I'd be more comfortable if we just split the bed. Not to _do_ anything, since it's really too soon - "

"Yes, much too soon," he cut in, nervously.

"Right, too soon for _that_, given that we're taking things slowly, but I'd still prefer not to have you sleep on the floor," she finished.

"Oh. Well, if that's okay with you..."

She pulled him in by the hand.

They fell asleep wrapped up tightly in each other's arms. Draco wondered if life with her would always be like this - some conversation, some kissing, and then holding each other until sleep took them away. He thought that sounded like the best thing he'd ever heard of. He'd always skipped this stuff and gone straight for the sex, but he realized with a start that he had been ripping himself off. This was heavenly. Not that he could have done this with any of the Pureblooded witches he'd been involved with - they were about as loving as the Black Lake. He wanted to do these things now because of Hermione. It was all her.

When she started to twitch and cry hours later, signalling the start of the nightmare, he rubbed her back and spoke to her softly, holding on tightly so she wouldn't spiral out of control. After twenty minutes of rocking her and telling her things would be okay, she calmed down and fell into a quiet sleep, her tears drying on his night shirt.

He decided he preferred this to her taking a sleep potion any day.

* * *

><p>His father gave him a knowing look the next morning as he left her room to go grab a change of clothes.<p>

"Please father, it was for the night terrors," Draco scoffed.

"Mmhmm," said Lucius, arching an eyebrow and making his way to the kitchen.

_Mostly_, Draco thought to himself, smiling at the memory of waking up with Hermione in his arms. He was starting to love the idea of taking care of her.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron came to visit later that day, looking angry and worn.<p>

"He must've caught wind that we were looking for him," said Ron as they all drank tea. "The lab's been abandoned, and there's no trace of him."

Hermione nodded, keeping her face neutral. Draco suspected that she knew Wolf would be impossible to find, but had been too polite to say anything.

"In better news, the Order's made some real gains recently, thanks to you, Lucius," Harry said, nodding at the man. Lucius looked mildly surprised.

"Glad I could help," he said, evasively.

"Me too," said Harry. "We would never have guessed some of the passwords and locations you gave us. We're extremely grateful. We're close to a big breakthrough, I think."

Hermione looked at Lucius with a sweet smile. "You're such a do-gooder," she teased, knowing it must have killed him to give such valuable information to an organization he wasn't particularly fond of. Then again, it would help beat an organization he truly detested, so perhaps the choice hadn't been so difficult.

Lucius rolled his eyes at her in jest, and they both smirked.

Draco wanted to laugh at the look on Harry and Ron's faces to see Hermione joking around with his father of all people. He sobered up quickly when he realized that Hermione's friends would need to be told about the... _Progression_ in his and Hermione's relationship if things kept going as well as they were. He wasn't looking forward to that reaction, but at least Harry was a little more prepared than Ron. Ron would probably try to kill him.

"How are your night terrors, 'Mione?" asked Ron casually, and Draco choked on his tea.

"They haven't been too bad," she said, not missing a beat. "Malfoy makes sure to stop me before I do any real damage," she added, vaguely. "I'm sure I would have done something harmful if it wasn't for him."

Ron looked surprised, but Harry assumed that infuriating knowing look.

"Well that's good, I suppose..." said Ron, furrowing his brow. "Thanks, Malfoy."

Draco grunted in response. He didn't want to give anything away, so really, it was safer not to talk at all. He ignored Harry's piercing stare and sipped his tea.

* * *

><p>They had gotten in the habit of chatting before they fell asleep, somewhere in between the snogging and the actual slumber. Draco had been true to his word about his "intentions," making sure to stop the physical stuff before things got too heated. The thought of rushing Hermione into anything made him cringe. He wanted her to be completely comfortable with him, and he didn't want to fuck anything up by moving too fast. It was the only time in his life he could remember prioritizing the needs of his lover.<p>

That, and she had admitted to him that she hadn't been intimate with anyone since Anthony. The last thing he wanted to do was cause some sort of relapse by making her remember the most torturous few months of her life. He could wait. He could wait as long as she wanted.

"Okay Granger, tell me something about your time at Hogwarts that nobody else knows," Draco said. They were making up for lost time by questioning each other about everything they could think of. So far she had discovered his fear of drowning, his love of the French language, and his admission that his only form of stress relief had ever been sex or flying. He had discovered that her guilty pleasure was hard candies, something she was never allowed as a child, that her fear of flying was so intense it made her nauseous, and that she'd lost her virginity to Viktor Krum.

"Hmmm... That nobody else knows? That's hard... Harry and Ron knew just about everything I was up to in those days," she said, frowning and trying to think of something good. "Oh! I know! I once stumbled across Madam Pince and Filch doing questionable things in one of the library storage closets."

"What?" he grimaced. "That's... Ugh. Thanks for the mental picture, Granger."

"Exactly why I didn't tell Harry and Ron," she nodded with a wry smile. "Nobody wants to imagine that. Plus I think we were all on bad terms at the time, so it seemed pointless to open up the lines of communication for gossip."

"Well, you're obviously not a Slytherin," he smirked. "That's our main reason to talk to each other."

"You think?" she chuckled.

"Why weren't you on good terms? I thought you three had to be separated by a repellant spell in those days." He tried to keep the sneer out of his voice and only partially succeeded.

"Hah, not always," she said, grimly. "We had our disagreements. I think this one was about Ron and Lavender, but maybe I'm wrong... It all seems so long ago now."

"Weren't you and Weasley sort of... Involved at some point?" he asked as delicately as he could. He didn't want her to know just how curious he was about this particular topic.

"Well, we dated really briefly after school," she said with a shrug, "But it was a colossal mistake. We are terribly suited to each other romantically. He takes me for granted and I spend all my time being annoyed with him. We're much better as friends."

Draco exhaled. He had been worried that she still held onto some old affections for Weasley, but apparently not. Good thing, too. He hated the git.

"Your turn," she said, yawning into his arm.

"Something from Hogwarts nobody else knows? Hmm. Well, once I had detention with Professor Trelawney and she predicted that her and I were destined for each other."

Hermione hooted with laughter and then proceeded to giggle heartily into his chest. Draco grinned. He knew how she felt about Divination, but he figured she'd be especially entertained by the weird revelation he'd doggedly ignored for years. He hadn't even told anyone when it happened; it would have given his fellow Slytherins a little too much ammunition for ruthless teasing.

"I was terrified of course... Just on the tiny fraction of a chance that she was right," he continued as Hermione giggled louder.

"Oh God Malfoy, that is the funniest thing I've heard in ages," she gasped, trying to calm down. "So are you telling me I shouldn't get too attached to you since fate will put you and Trelawny together in the end?"

Draco frowned. "I'm definitely not saying that," he said, stroking her hair. "You can get as attached as you want." He meant to tease, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized it was true.

She gave him a shy smile and he tried not to read too much into it.

* * *

><p>"Why did you save my father and I? After what I did... With the window. When I hurt you."<p>

She bit her lower lip and thought about it.

"I guess I just felt that you needed a chance. I felt like there was more to you than your angry facade, and I knew I'd never be able to find out if I turned you in. Besides, you would have been killed. I couldn't live with that. I've had worse than being thrown through a window, anyway."

Draco ran his finger down her cheek.

"Thanks for taking a chance on me, Granger."

She smiled at him.

"Well, you certainly didn't disappoint, Malfoy."

* * *

><p>Some nights the topics were more serious than others.<p>

"Tell me about Anthony," he said. "If you're okay with it."

She thought for a while. "I don't know where to start," she said eventually. "We met because he was helping the Order - he would patch our people up after missions. I asked him to show me what he was doing so I could help, and I guess I picked it up quickly. He ended up spending all his time teaching me when he wasn't working, and when his job was threatened because of You-Know-Who's influence with the Ministry and St. Mungo's, he just worked full time with the Order and I became the second Healer. We starting dating largely because we already saw each other constantly and discovered we were really compatible."

"Do you miss him?" Draco asked.

"I do," she nodded, "But it's weird. We had only been dating for about five months when he was killed, and for a chunk of that time I was in a bad mental state, so I still tend to miss him the way I would miss a friend... I simply knew him better in that respect than I did as a lover. He was very good to me, and maybe under different circumstances we would have had a chance, but it wasn't a good time to be starting something romantic with anyone. I was so shocked when I found out he left me the house... I don't think he had a lot of people he was close to."

"Did you... Love him? You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

She smiled. "I cared about him a lot. He was extremely important to me and I'm happy he was in my life. But no, I wasn't in love with him. Maybe that would have come later, but I'm not sure. Even then, I was very guarded with my emotions. It's hard to let your guard down and invite people in when you could lose them at any moment. Like a self-preservation method - keeping emotionally distant."

"Yeah, I know all about that, as I'm sure you could have guessed." He had started tracing her fingers the way he was so fond of. He wondered if she kept herself emotionally distant from him. It didn't feel like it, but he didn't want to assume anything either.

"Have you ever been in love?" she asked suddenly.

Draco's mouth went dry. "No, not yet," he said, quietly. She seemed satisfied with his response, and they both started to doze off.

He tried not to think about whether or not he had given her an honest answer.

* * *

><p>Draco knew the question was coming eventually, but that didn't make it any easier when she actually asked it.<p>

"Why are Death Eaters okay with killing Muggles? I mean, although they aren't magical, they're still people. I don't understand the mentality. Murder is murder."

He cringed, but knew he had to answer, since she always answered his questions openly.

"I... Ugh, that's a tough one, Granger. Okay, when you're in that group, nearly all your time is spent being brainwashed, essentially. You're told that Muggles - and Muggle-borns, really - aren't human, that they're worthless... Insects. Animals. A threat to the so-called purity of the magical world. Eventually, you just start buying it. Or you start buying it because you're being asked to hurt these people, and it's easier to do it when you think they're beneath you. I'd been hearing that stuff all my life, so it wasn't difficult to believe."

"Why are you different now?" she asked. "You were still like that when you were rescued, I remember. You hated me."

He looked at her with a serious expression, and then sighed. "I don't know... Spending time with you, seeing that you're not any of those things I was taught... I guess eventually it just hit me. It's been a weird process... And sometimes I fight it just because it's so different than what I used to believe... But it's better like this. Better to let go. And seeing my father make the change too, I mean, Merlin... The man taught me everything I know about hate. It's amazing that he's come so far."

He paused, turning the words over in his mind.

"It's very hard to hate you, Granger. Even at my worst, I was always curious about you, and a bit jealous, I suppose. You challenged everything I'd been taught."

She studied his face.

"I'm glad you've changed your mind about me, Malfoy," she said.

He kissed her, worried that he might say too much if he took the conversation further. Hate was the farthest thing from how he felt about the witch in his arms.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_From SharpestSatire: "If only I could dispel the feeling that you're about to throw Draco off a cliff or something..." Don't worry! It's not a cliff! No, but seriously, when I decided to write angst, I wanted to really do it up. Mostly because I tend to slide into smutty humour when I'm being complacent, so it's taking a lot of discipline for me to steer this back into turmoil. It would be all too easy to throw them into a closet and let them shag like bunnies for the next four chapters... But... Uh... Now I'm thinking about them shagging like bunnies. What were we talking about again? ANYWAYS. The story. Right. We're inching towards the end now. I think. Okay, honestly? I can't decide. I've got four more chapters ready to go, but let's just see where my brain takes it this weekend. Reviews in exchange for a chapter tomorrow! Lots of interesting stuff coming up!_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>It had been two weeks to the day since Hermione had given him a chance, and Draco had never been happier in his life.<p>

He walked into the kitchen with a relaxed smile on his face, and Hermione grinned at him from where she was standing at the counter, prepping the meal. Her hair was loose and wild, framing her face to show the fierce beauty he had come to adore in her. It was still damp at the tips from her morning shower, curling as it dried.

His father sat at the table, calmly reading a rather large and musty old book. The Order had finally gotten him a proper prosthetic, one that functioned like a leg and not like a metal pole. It had taken them long enough, but Draco was just thankful that it had happened at all. The Order had certainly seemed a lot more open with the Malfoys since Lucius gave them so much valuable information on the Dark Lord, but Draco suspected Hermione was responsible for the final push that made them track down a prosthetic after so long. Lucius had been able to move around more quickly since, and seemed more comfortable in general. Sometimes the trio nearly forgot that they were hiding out in the middle of a war. The house was a little haven. A haven for damaged people.

Draco marvelled at how much things had changed since they first came to stay here. He didn't recognize his life anymore.

The nights with Hermione were unlike anything he'd ever experienced with a woman. They had gone from superficial chatting to sharing their deepest secrets - something that Draco hadn't allowed himself to do with anyone, let alone someone he was interested in romantically. Every night was like an emotional exorcism, some nights harder than others, some downright painful to discuss. He had done some horrible things in his life. And yet, with everything he confessed to, she exposed something hidden as well. Draco felt like he knew her intrinsically now - like he could sense what was on her mind before she said it out loud. Being with her was like an emotional balm... He felt calmer, more sure of himself, and less angry than he'd ever been. It was a revelation to see how perpetually furious he had been before without really realizing it. It felt good not to be quite so tense anymore. It felt good to let go.

Even the physical side of things with Hermione was great. They had agreed it was too early for sex, as tempting as it was. Instead they sated themselves with intense snogging sessions and as much groping as they could get away with. And he was actually _liking_ the pace. Whenever they decided to take things further, he knew it would be incredible, and well worth the wait. It was a totally unfamiliar approach for him, but it worked.

Hermione served up the poached eggs and potatoes onto three plates and everyone tucked in.

They were mostly done eating when they heard it. A light 'pop' sound coming from the fireplace. Hermione's head snapped over to the floo and her eyes narrowed.

"That's weird," she said. "I've never heard it do that before."

Draco and Lucius stood up to investigate. They tinkered with it a bit, but nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.

Hermione shrugged. "I'll get Harry and Ron to look at it when they stop by later," she said. "Maybe something's funny with the system."

* * *

><p>Draco and Lucius were playing a game of chess after lunch and Hermione was reading when the sound happened again. A light 'pop' echoing through the fireplace, followed by silence.<p>

"What in Merlin's name_ is_ that?" she frowned.

"Would you like me to contact Headquarters and let them know there might be an issue with the floo? Perhaps Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley can come a little sooner if they know there's a problem," said Lucius.

"Actually, that would be great Lucius. Thank you for the offer. Better to be safe than sorry. Merlin knows it's the only way in and out of here... I don't want it going funny on us."

She looked at the fireplace again with a frown, her eyebrows knotting together as if she was turning something over in her mind.

"Everything okay, Granger?" said Draco. He didn't like it when she looked concerned. It made him want to pick her up and squirrel her away in bed.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and smiled at him. "Just fine. It's probably nothing. The wards are active, so I guess I shouldn't be worried about a random sound."

Draco nodded and went back to the game while his father ambled over to send the message. He wasn't terribly worried... Potter and Weasley could take care of the quirky floo when they arrived for their little check-in. They had been busy lately, dropping hints at some big event that was going to happen soon, but not giving any more details than that. Draco still got his back up around those two, but if they were closer to taking down the Dark Lord, he supposed he could listen to them drone on every few days.

Besides, general annoyance aside, he and Hermione still hadn't told the Wonder Duo about their relationship. It would have to happen soon, that much was clear. Not that it was ever much of a question, but it was quickly becoming apparent that this was no fling. Draco was admittedly dreading their reaction. Hermione loved them and respected their opinions, Merlin knew why. Would they sabotage things? Would she change her mind about him? Gods, that would destroy him. She was _everything _to him.

He hadn't quite told her that yet, either.

Lucius sat back down in front of him and the game continued.

* * *

><p>It was nearing suppertime and Harry and Ron still hadn't come by. Hermione had shot the occasional worried look at the fireplace, but seemed to relax more and more as she organized her kitchen drawers. Perhaps the sound had been nothing after all.<p>

Draco and Lucius were sitting on the couch discussing a book they had both read. Draco was getting annoyed with his father for playing devil's advocate, and was arguing back with his usual snark. He was just about to launch a stinging rebuttal when a louder 'pop' boomed out of the fireplace, followed by a glowing green light. Everyone went quiet.

Hermione was by his side immediately, her wand out and her eyes wide with fear.

"That's not normal," she said, her voice shaking. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

As soon as the words left her mouth, all hell broke loose.

The living room in front of the floo was suddenly swallowed by darkness. Draco heard Hermione cry out and he couldn't feel her beside him anymore. Before he could jump to his feet, he was hit with a spell and was frozen to his seat. Judging by his father's rigid form beside him, he had been paralyzed too. Panicked fury swallowed Draco whole - somebody had broken Hermione's wards. Somebody had gotten in.

Where the _fuck_ was the Wonder Duo when you needed them?

Just as quickly as it came, the darkness cleared.

Wolf was standing in front of the floo with a deranged grin on his face. He had dark blue bruises on his cheeks and a long cut on his jaw that was healing badly, the flesh dark red along the opening. He was holding Hermione's wand as well as his own, and she was scrambling to her feet on the other side of the room, having been blasted over there seconds earlier. Her forehead was bleeding and she looked extremely pale. Her eyes darted towards Draco's, and he saw her whimper when she realized he was frozen in place. The Malfoys watched the scene helplessly.

"Hello Hermione," Wolf purred. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Wolf?" she gasped, sounding every bit as scared as she was. Draco's heart was screaming for her. An Imperioused servant of the Dark Lord in her house... A hacked floo system... It would be a miracle if any of them made it out alive.

"Wolf," she said again, more calmly, trying to hide her shaking hands. "How did you get through my wards?"

"Ah, princess, you forget that I had the pleasure of holding you captive for some time. It was a valuable opportunity to search your mind for all your little security tricks. It still took some work, but eventually I was able to break through. You are a clever one, but then again, I've always known that. I apologize for my absence these past couple of weeks, but I had some business to attend to with my host. Now we can make up for lost time."

Draco didn't like the affectionate way he was speaking to her. What he assumed was a mild crush looked like more of an obsession on Wolf's part. Worst of all, Draco couldn't do a damn thing to protect her.

"Your host? Are you talking about the person who cursed you? So it _was_ you who kidnapped me!" she seethed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Wolf, you were my friend! I trusted you!"

"Not my fault, sweet girl," Wolf said in an eerily seductive voice. "And for the sake of accuracy, Bryce kidnapped you under my orders. I simply popped in to pay you a few visits."

"The beatings? The torture?" she asked, angrily. "Was that you too?"

Draco saw Wolf grimace and twitch. "Only partly. I'm afraid my weaker side was not very enthusiastic about those activities."

"Your weaker side?" she said, looking puzzled. "As in, the real Wolf? The one not under the influence of the curse?"

"The same," he said with a shrug. "The 'real' Wolf, as you call him, has been an absolute nuisance. Gave you so many drugs you couldn't even feel the pain of the torture. What's the point in that, I ask you? He also helped you escape before I was able to regain control. No matter... Bryce was punished for not being able to stop him."

"The real Wolf was the one who sent me through the floo?" she asked, astonished. "And you... You killed Bryce? Just because he wasn't able to stop you?"

"Not _me_, Hermione, did you not listen to a word I said?" he snapped angrily. "Bryce wasn't able to stop my weaker side. My weaker side isn't _me_. He is merely an annoyance. He didn't want me to force my way back into your house either, but as you can see, I am the one in control here."

He broke out into another sick smile. The entire conversation so far had taken place with Hermione a safe distance away from Wolf while the psychopath talked. To Draco's horror, Wolf began to take slow steps towards Hermione as he fingered her wand.

"My weaker side was too cowardly to take you for his own, Hermione. I won't make the same mistake," he said, his voice a low rumble.

Hermione took a few jerky steps backwards until she was against a wall. Draco saw her eyes scanning the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon.

"My weaker side would have wanted to woo you, court you, win your love. I'm not concerned with such things," he continued, step after step, walking like a predator.

She scampered around the corner towards the hallway as Wolf continued to approach. His long legs were carrying him towards her at a frightening speed.

"My weaker side would never fuck your pretty body and then dispose of it, but that's exactly what I'm going to do, my love. Just because my host wouldn't let me keep you for my own doesn't mean I can't have some fun before you die."

Draco thought the term 'seeing red' was just a figure of speech, but he could have sworn his vision went bloody with rage as he sat on the couch, locked in his own body. Unable to stop Hermione's rape. Unable to stop her murder.

He wanted to die.

Wolf was right in front of Hermione now, and she was backed against the door of the spare room. She shot one last panicked look at Draco before Wolf turned the handle and pushed Hermione inside.

_Please let me die._

_Please let me die._

_Please let me die._

Draco couldn't live with himself if Hermione was harmed. He had wondered for a split second why Wolf hadn't just killed him and his father when he broke through the floo, but it was clear almost immediately. He wanted them to hear what was happening to her. He wanted them to feel helpless. He probably knew how Draco felt about her - everyone seemed to have picked up on it. The man was a monster.

His thoughts were cut off with the sound of Hermione screaming and sobbing.

_Please let me die_, Draco thought as his heart shattered.

* * *

><p>Hermine started thinking of potential weapons the second her wand flew out of her hand. She had no idea what was going to emerge from the darkness, but she knew it was going to be bad. She needed something to defend herself with, something to defend Lucius and Draco. <em>Oh God<em> she was worried about them... Would they be hurt? Depending on who was coming out of the floo, they could be a bigger prize than her. She couldn't let that happen. She needed a weapon.

Her brain started listing off possibilities even as she was thrown through the air.

All her knives... In the kitchen, and the sharpest ones were taken away because of her night terrors anyway.

She had a ceremonial dagger on the wall of the library, but it was really a decorative thing. Plus it was too far down the hall.

The living room was full of plush, cozy things. None of them would work unless she got close enough to smother the intruder. But what if there was more than one intruder?

Wandless magic? She could try, but she hadn't practiced for over two years now and she might end up hurting Draco or Lucius accidentally.

_Fuck_, why didn't she have a backup plan for this? She had put too much faith in her wards. She had been too confident. Now they might all pay with their lives.

Then the darkness cleared, and there stood Wolf. She cried as he chatted about his crimes, horrified that her friend had been turned into a ruthless killer. She needed to get out of there. She had to lure him away from Draco and Lucius. She had to buy herself some time.

She began to stumble towards the hallway as her brain fought frantically for a solution.

Wolf said he would rape and murder her, and her brain went into overdrive. She _would not_ die that way.

An idea hit her like a freak thunderstorm. It was a stretch, but it might just work. She backed up against the door to the spare room. She looked at Draco, frozen on the couch, and hoped she would see him again. She couldn't imagine what it was like for him to have to watch this, unable to act.

Wolf was so close she could smell the tobacco on his breath. He turned the handle and pushed her inside, his eyes raking over her body.

_Think Hermione, think. Make this work_.

He looked around the strange spare room, housing only her medical supplies and some odds and ends from Anthony.

"There's no bed in here princess, but we can use the floor. I'm not picky." He grabbed her by the waist and tore open her shirt in one powerful movement. She screamed. He was far stronger than she expected. How was she going to manage this?

His fingers tore open her bra and he fondled her roughly as she struggled.

"Oh Hermione, you have no idea how long I've wanted this..." he groaned. She thought she might actually vomit as he grabbed and prodded her, eventually muffling her mouth with his hand to quiet her screaming. She bit him and he smacked her harshly across the face. She heard a 'crack' and tasted blood. Her nose was broken - she could feel it.

He pinned her against the wall and wrenched open the front of her jeans, sliding his fingers between her legs, underneath the fabric of her knickers. She sobbed and struggled harder, revolted that he was touching her there. She had to get out of this! He forced his index inside of her and she shrieked.

"Not wet yet, princess?" he rasped. "I can change that. Take off the rest of your clothes," he ordered, stepping back.

_This is your chance_.

She pretended to trip as she took off her jeans, sending her closer to the dresser in the far corner. Exaggerating her movements as she got up, she dragged herself along the floor as she slowly got to her feet, peeling off the few layers of clothing she had on.

_Closer. Closer_.

She was down to nothing now, standing in front of the dresser and shaking like a leaf. Gods, this was humiliating. He was looking at her like he was going to eat her whole. She prayed to every deity she could remember. _Please let this work_.

"Wolf?" she said timidly as he began to unbutton his pants, his hardness fully visible as it strained against the fabric. She knew she didn't have much time.

"What?" he grunted as his belt came off.

"Could you relay a message to your... Your weaker side for me? You know... As a last communication?"

He didn't look pleased, but nodded anyway.

Her hands were behind her back, resting on the dresser, and she slowly raised them higher from their hidden position.

"Please tell him... " her voice broke. Even in this situation, it was hard doing this to her friend. He was under that curse somewhere. He would never have done this to her.

"Please tell him I'm so sorry," she said, looking him straight in the eye. He looked confused, his hand frozen at the top of his pants.

She grasped the edge of the bucket holding the Curse of the Flame, the black oily contents sloshing around inside. The curse was deadly strong to begin with, but this one was Voldemort's own. She may not have a wand, but she had Dark magic in physical form at her disposal. She had seen what it had done to Draco... It would have killed him if it had been left untreated. It may very well kill Wolf.

She couldn't worry about that now. Survival came first.

The contents flew out of the bucket directly onto him. Black liquid seeped into his skin the second it hit him, and Wolf's face went from a expression of sick perversion to one of immesurable pain.

He screamed and fell to the floor, convulsing as the curse attacked his body, thrilled to have a host again. The last of the liquid disappeared from sight, and she knew it was swimming around inside him now. Invisibly setting him on fire. Torturing him.

Hermione grabbed an old towel from the hamper, picked up the two wands, and bolted out of the room, wrapping her naked body as she ran.

Sobbing and hysterical, she lifted the spell on Draco and Lucius, and collapsed into Draco's shaking arms. Both her and Wolf's cries echoed through the house.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Oooh, the race is on. I'm too close for comfort between my updating and my writing, so it's a damn good thing today is Sunday. I'm going to spend the afternoon typing (and cooking, and doing laundry, and cleaning... Ugh). SO HAPPY that the bucket came as a surprise. I honestly had no idea how many of you would remember that she never disposed of it. I know I promised Lucius would come into his own eventually, and so we begin. We also get a glimpse into his back story a bit. I find myself missing Narcissa even though we never really got to know her in this story. Is that weird? Okay, I'm weird. Thank you for the MAMMOTH number of reviews. I love it when y'all are chatty. Keep it up, and I'll post again tomorrow... Hopefully with a bunch of brand new content waiting in the wings. No pressure, self._

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>The next few hours were a blur.<p>

Lucius felt the spell lift like a heavy blanket. He took one look at Hermione's trembling, bloody body, wrapped only in a towel on Draco's lap, and decided to make himself useful while Draco calmed her. Both he and his son had heard her screams from the spare room, stuck helplessly on the couch while the spell immobilized them. Now the intruder was the one screaming, and Lucius planned to investigate. Besides, Hermione and Draco clearly needed a moment alone. Gods only knew what had happened to her in that room. He picked up Wolf's wand from the coffee table and walked towards the man's shrieking voice.

He pushed open the door with the elegant grace.

Wolf looked like he was having a seizure, and Lucius gazed at him with an expression of deceptive calm. What he wanted to do was cast a quick _Avada_ and then incinerate the body. It may have taken Lucius some time to warm up to the idea of his son being with a Muggle-born, but now that he'd accepted it, he was quite open about his fondness for Hermione. This man, this writhing _thing _on the floor, had nearly ended her life. He may have raped her. Lucius could see her clothes strewn around the room, her blood splattered on the wall. He had heard her screaming. His jaw clenched angrily. This poor excuse for a man should never have touched her. He had no idea what he was meddling with. Malfoys looked after their own, just as Hermione looked after them.

Wolf continued to convulse. Lucius smirked at Hermione's choice of weapon, eyeing the overturned bucket. He couldn't have thought of something more terrible if he tried. She worked well under pressure, he decided. Smart girl.

But what to do with this filth in front of him? There were so many ways to dispose of a body, and Lucius was out of practice. Surely Hermione wouldn't begrudge him this little opportunity? A chance to brush up on his skills? He tapped his finger to his lips thoughtfully while Wolf gurgled in pain. Lucius knew he was good at bringing misery to others, and longed to put his talent to use. It was one of the only reasons he had made such a good Death Eater, after all. He had an active imagination when it came to causing someone else's anguish.

Hermione's sweet voice echoed around in his ears, and Lucius let out a frustrated sigh. _Bloody hell_. He knew she wouldn't want him to kill Wolf, both because Wolf was her friend under the influence of a spell, and because she wouldn't want Lucius to get in even more trouble. Lucius frowned in annoyance. What a pity. He wanted to take his anger out on this man. He wanted to make him suffer for hurting Hermione. But the man was clearly already suffering, and may very well die from pain before the Order arrived. Unfortunately, that would have to be enough.

That girl was a bad influence on him.

With a sharp kick to Wolf's ribs, and a satisfying crunch upon impact, Lucius walked back out of the room and locked the door behind him.

He was greeted with the heartwrenching sight of Hermione curled up on his son's lap. Draco was clearly in shock, holding her tightly and rocking her as he murmured soothing words to her. Lucius walked over carefully, knowing that it would be better for Hermione if they sorted a few things out before the house filled with panicked Order members.

He knelt down in front of her and gave a reassuring look to his son. He needed to move quickly before Draco came to his senses and decided to go on a murderous rampage. He knew his son well - he only had a matter of minutes, if even, before Draco tried to tear Wolf apart with his bare hands.

"Hermione, dear, I've secured Wolf in the room. I suspect the Order will be here soon. Do you mind if I ask you some questions before they arrive?"

Her cries quieted, and she sniffed a few times, wiping her face with her hands. She succeeded in smearing blood over her cheeks and down her jaw. Lucius pushed down another wave of anger at the tortured man in the other room.

"Sure," she whispered.

"I'm coming to the conclusion that you were sexually assaulted. Is this accurate?"

She nodded and Draco's whole body went tense.

"I apologize for my next question. Were you raped?"

She shook her head.

"Good," he said. "You're doing very well. There's blood in the room and on your face. Where are you hurt?"

She pointed to her nose. "Broken, I think," she said.

"May I fix it for you?" Lucius asked calmly, holding up Wolf's wand for her to see. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in possession of a wand, and that it could jeopardize their deal with the Order, but he was beyond caring at the moment. He wasn't planning on keeping the thing, as tempting as it was.

She nodded. He pointed the wand at her face, said a quick incantation, and her nose was healed. The swelling receded before his eyes, and the blood dried up.

"Thank you," she said, touching her face delicately, wincing a bit.

"Not at all. What else can we do to help you?"

She thought for a while as Draco rubbed her back.

"I think I'd like to get dressed. And I don't want anyone else to go in that room until the Order arrives."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, and Hermione silenced him with a look. "Malfoy, do you know how I stopped him? I threw your curse on him... The contents of the bucket. He's suffering, I promise. I'm sure you can imagine what he's feeling right now. I don't want you in there with how angry you are. He'll get what's coming to him."

"I... I want to kill him," said Draco, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. "He hurt you! He would have raped you... He would have killed you!"

"I know. I know all of this... Which is why you should come and help me find some clothes instead. Nobody else needs to get hurt today." Her tone was final.

"Granger - "

"Please, Malfoy."

"Hermione - "

"No Draco."

He set his jaw in a look of stubborn defiance, but Hermione didn't back down. After a few moments of intense glaring, his face assumed an expression of defeat. He let out a grumbling sigh and nodded. Draco stood up, carrying her tightly in his arms, and walked her slowly down the hall to her room.

"Thank you, father," he said over his shoulder.

Lucius was quietly impressed with Hermione's ability to persuade his son out of violence. She was really quite something. Remembering his duties, he walked over to the floo to tell the Order what happened. It was not going to be a quiet evening.

* * *

><p>"What a fucking shit show," Draco seethed.<p>

The Order had finally arrived - an entire gang of them, by the looks of it - and they were storming through the house like hysterical children. He had to hand it to his father... Lucius had taken over the task of organizing, informing and delegating since most of the people in the house were too distraught to operate efficiently. The news that a key Order supporter had not only been under the _Imperious_, but had assaulted Hermione after breaking her wards, had everyone in a panic. Nobody knew what information had leaked out, and to whom.

Hermione and Draco were holed up in her room. She was curled up on his lap with her head under his chin, and his arms were like vices around her waist. Harry and Ron had come to ask her questions, but she tearily pointed them to Lucius and said she didn't want to talk. Harry hadn't even blinked at the fact that she was sitting on Draco's lap, but Ron looked like he had been hit in the face. Draco simply couldn't bring himself to care. He had only one concern, and she was in his arms. At least the Wonder Duo knew about them now, more officially at any rate. Hermione was clinging to him like a drowning kitten and he was threatening violence to anyone who came near to her. They could draw whatever conclusions they wanted. He knew they wouldn't get angry in front of Hermione, not now. Draco made sure to kiss her temple while Ron was looking, just for emphasis. In response, Ron had turned the strangest shade of purple.

"Are they always this loud?" he snarled. He missed the quiet of the house he'd come to call home. Raised voices were echoing down the hall, disagreeing over who was to blame for the hacked floo. One person argued that the Order should have arrived sooner to investigate, and another argued back that they had always planned to come, just not right away. Harry was growling at Mad-Eye... Something about wands. "Merlin, sometimes I can't believe these imbeciles are fighting against the Dark Lord. They can't even investigate an attack with only one entry point. Useless bunch of tossers."

"They're just worried about me," she said sleepily. "Everyone here has known me a fairly long time. They came because they're concerned. They're not usually like this. Plus they all know Wolf. Probably just blaming themselves."

Draco sighed. She was right, of course. "I guess I just want them to leave," he acquiesced. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it too. I want to tear him limb from limb, Granger. I swear to you, just give me five minutes in a room with him alone..."

He felt her kiss his neck softly, and then his cheek. He shivered warmly at the touch. She wasn't afraid to be affectionate with him, and he had to admit it made him feel incredible. His eyes drifted shut.

"I was begging for death," he admitted, quietly. "When I heard you screaming in that room. I was hoping that he'd come back out and finish me. I couldn't keep going if he had taken you from me."

He felt her kiss his ear, and his neck again, tracing her fingers over his chest.

"I'm fucking crazy about you, Granger," he whispered into her hair. When she was in that room with Wolf, he thought his universe was imploding. She inspired so much damn _emotion_ in him, he didn't know which way was up.

"Feeling's mutual," she murmured before falling asleep against him.

* * *

><p>It took a while for things to go back to normal in the house. Hermione jumped at every sound and Draco was seethingly angry at the Order. They had decided to try and remove the curse and the <em>Imperious<em> from Wolf instead of hanging the man. For now, Wolf was under lockdown while they experimented with new healing techniques. Draco wanted him sliced up and fed to stray dogs. He felt that was merciful enough. It had become an event when Harry and Ron stopped by, because Draco had physically attacked them twice and spat on them at least as many times. He finally relented when he saw how much it was upsetting Hermione. Instead, he brooded.

Only Lucius had come out of the incident better than before. Taking control of the situation had suited him, reminded him why he made a good leader. Years of working under someone else had muted his confidence and had made him forget who he was. Now he remembered. He was _Lucius Malfoy_. He was a feared man. He knew how to manage others. The circumstances had changed somewhat - he no longer sat near the top of a Pureblooded empire, he no longer had his wife at his side... But he had options. He could start to command a presence within the Order, as strange as that would be. He could be a better example to his son. And he could protect their hostess, who seemed to have attracted some of the worst luck he'd ever witnessed. The girl could use an advocate who wasn't hopelessly in love with her. Merlin knew his son was absolutely sick over Hermione, even if he wasn't admitting it to her.

Ridiculous boy. He had nothing to lose by telling her the truth - she was obviously in just as deep.

Lucius was actually amazed to see such a change in his son. Draco was still hostile and snarky, but that was as much a part of the boy's personality as anything else. The real change lay the fact that he now had another side to him as well, a side that had been hidden or non-existent until Hermione brought it out of him. For every angry comment, there was a touch of her hand. For every rude gesture, he would rock her to sleep at night. There was a balance to Draco now, a good side to even out the bad. And he didn't just care for Hermione - she was his world. She was giving him enough affection to counteract the years and years of hate Draco had absorbed. It defied reason, but Hermione seemed to have a limitless supply of goodness inside of her; it had just been sidelined by her mental breakdown. Now, as she was healing, she was letting it out. And it was having a miraculous effect on his son, who in retrospect was probably starved for something like this. Reciprocated, honest affection.

Even for someone as hardened as Lucius, it made him smile.

The longer he was away from the Dark Lord and his followers, the less Lucius was bothered by blood purity issues. It had certainly been a blessing in disguise to have been thrown out when they were. If only his beautiful Narcissa was with him too. He wondered if she could have changed like him... If she could have grown to care for a Muggle-born girl, an Order member no less. Lucius chuckled to himself. One look at the effect Hermione had on Draco and Narcissa would have been converted. He was sure of it. The girl had a way with people, even if she didn't know it. Narcissa was always fond of anything that made her son happy.

"Lucius?"

A soft voice brought him out of his daydream. Hermione was smiling down at him.

"I've made some dinner. You hungry?"

He stood up quickly and joined his son at the table, accidentally proving his own point.

* * *

><p>Hermione was in the shower, and Draco took the opportunity to seek out his father. Her found him in the backyard, reading in the shade on a bench.<p>

"Father? May I join you?"

Lucius looked up from his reading and moved to the side so Draco would have room to sit down. "Of course, son. Something on your mind?"

Draco cleared his throat. He wasn't really sure how to start this conversation, and he was dreading the inevitable "I told you so" from his father. Not to mention the fact that he was terrible at discussing his emotions with anyone but Hermione, and even that took some coaxing. He sat, and forced himself to speak. The incident with Wolf had gotten him thinking.

"How did you know you were in love with mother?"

Lucius's eyebrows shot upwards and he stared at Draco for a while. Draco shuffled around uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the ground. While he relished the way Hermione made him feel, he _hated_ having to analyze it and sort it out in his mind. Having never been in love before, he wanted to make sure this was the real thing before he committed himself to the idea. It was a fucking terrifying word. His father had loved his mother very much - he should be able to shed some light on the insane emotions Draco was wrestling with. He knew Lucius hated discussing his feelings almost as much as Draco did, but under Hermione's influence, they had both opened up slightly. Hopefully it would be enough.

Eventually, his father looked away and stared off into the greenery of the yard. A small smile took over his features.

"Well, when I was first courting your mother, I was up against quite a bit of competition. She was a highly sought-after witch - Pureblooded, incredibly beautiful, ambitious... I believe she had four other suitors besides myself, all from good pedigrees, all seeking her hand."

"Huh," Draco said, impressed. His mother would always just be his mother to him, but of course it made sense that she was once young and looking for a husband. She had remained beautiful even as she aged, and she must have been stunning in her youth.

"In the end, the choice was between me and a Spanish wizard with Royal bloodlines. Her family was pressuring her to marry the Spaniard. It wasn't looking good for me. Even though the Malfoy name was well respected, Narcissa's parents fancied the idea of have both Pure and Royal blood introduced to the line. They made their preference very clear."

"Bellatrix came to me one night and said your mother had chosen the Spaniard, told me I had lost, told me to back off. I was crushed. There were other witches that would have made suitable matches for me, but I was fixated on your mother. I didn't realize until then how much she had come to mean to me. I decided not to give up - Malfoys are notoriously stubborn, as you know. I told Bella that Narcissa would have to tell me herself in order for me to stop courting her. I sent her letters, flowers that were enchanted never to fade, her favourite delicacies from around the world... I made it my business to know what she loved, and presented her with every thoughtful gift I could imagine."

Draco was already completely enthralled with the story. He hadn't really expected much of an answer, and instead he was getting a peek into his parent's lives long before he came into the picture. He couldn't believe he was only hearing this for the first time. Beyond that, he couldn't believe his father was being so open with him.

"After two weeks of this without hearing anything from Narcissa, her house elf Mirtu came to deliver a message. He said that she had told her parents that she wouldn't marry the Spaniard, and as punishment, she was being kept in her room, away from any other suitors. She hadn't received any of my gifts or letters. She had sent the elf to tell me because she was worried I would have given up on her. The opposite was true, of course. I was overjoyed. I wrote her a long letter and sent it back with the elf, and later that evening, Mirtu came back with a reply. We corresponded in secret for two weeks, sending several letters a day. I got to know her extremely well through her words - she was intelligent, feisty, had a biting sense of humour... It was during that part of the courtship where I realized I had fallen completely in love with her. I simply woke up one day and couldn't imagine my life without her."

His father's words hit home. He swallowed heavily.

Lucius gave Draco a long look. "We eloped, you know. She managed to sneak out after a month of being kept in her room. We met in Diagon Alley and married immediately, in secret." Lucius chuckled to himself. "Mirtu was thrilled... I've never met an elf so invested in the happiness of their Mistress. He helped us arrange everything, kept her safe. House elves have fascinating magic... For servants, anyway. Quite unlike a witch or wizard's. When it was over, there was nothing her parents could do. We took quite a bit of heat for it, but it was well worth it, in the end. Mirtu continued to look after your mother, right up until... Until her death."

Draco ran his hands through his hair and sucked in a breath. His mind was racing.

"So... How long, Draco?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you felt you couldn't imagine your life without Hermione?"

Draco looked at the ground and fidgeted his hands.

"Since that first night terror. When she fell asleep on me."

Lucius nodded to himself. "I thought as much."

"It's the strangest feeling," said Draco, quietly. "I tingle, like, actually tingle when she touches me. My heart goes crazy when she's around. I would give my life for hers. It's like it's out of a goddamn _book_. What kind of insanity is that? I don't know what to do."

His father frowned.

"What do you mean, what to _do_? You tell her, of course. Properly. You tell her you love her."

"Tell her? How can I tell her? What if she doesn't feel the same way?" Draco said, realizing that he was starting to sound desperate, and perhaps a little bit cowardly.

"Son, I can assure you she does," said Lucius, sounding annoyed. "And frankly, you should tell her anyway. This is a war. She is a target. Don't live your life as though your time is unlimited. You never know when she'll be taken from you." Lucius's voice cracked near the end, and he looked away.

They sat quietly for a while.

"Sometimes I can't believe mother is gone," Draco said, eventually. "And that she was murdered like that. I mean... I really thought we were one of them, you know? I never even considered that we would be thrown out, that they would try to kill us off. I never considered anything beyond what I knew. How fucking blind was I?" He kicked the dirt angrily.

"No more blind than I was," said Lucius, his voice achingly sad. "If I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own affairs, I would have noticed all the signs. The Dark Lord had been cutting us out over the years, telling me less and less about his plans. His true motivation is beyond me, but nonetheless. I should have acted; protected you and your mother. And now I'm here, without her, having to face the consequences of my choices."

He turned to Draco and looked him straight on.

"Son, I know I didn't behave very well at first, but please believe that I am so thankful you have found Hermione. I believe that if your mother were alive, and if she had seen the change Hermione has inspired in you, she would care for her as much as I do."

Draco smiled at his father. Malfoys were notoriously bad at discussing their feelings, and yet, here were the remaining two, discussing their mutual affection for a Muggle-born witch. It was almost funny.

"Thanks, father."

"Please think about what I've told you, son," Lucius said, a little more sternly. "Don't waste your time. Don't risk losing her without having told her."

Draco nodded noncommittally, and got up and went to make tea for Hermione. He imagined his mother's voice as he walked. She was telling him she was proud of him. He knew it was just his mind playing tricks, but it felt extremely real.

* * *

><p>The days trickled by, and Draco couldn't find the right moment to tell Hermione about what he and his father discussed.<p>

He wanted to tell her when he held her in his arms at night, but all he could think of by way of introduction was, "Hey Granger, just wanted to say that..."

_No_. He wasn't going to do it that way. He'd never said _those words_ to anyone, and he wasn't going to let his first time sound so bloody mundane.

He wanted to tell her while she was making breakfast, looking fucking lovely in her cotton blouse and her worn denims, her hair curling wildly around her face, but he choked on the words before they left his lips. He drank tea instead, and flushed happily when she kissed him as she sat down to eat.

He wanted to tell her on that amazing day when she finally beat him at chess. Instead he said an awkward, "I love... Your strategy." She laughed and clapped, thrilled that she finally understood the game.

"It's about having long-term goals, picking your tactics and then just going for it! Having no fear!" she exclaimed happily.

"Right..." he said, uncomfortably, wondering about his own goals. Did he have tactics, or was he just swimming around in a pool of emotional cowardice?

He eventually developed his own tactics for avoiding his father's unimpressed gaze. He was getting quite good at that game.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Whew. I got a fair amount of writing done last night, so we're in the clear! No slacking for me until this story is done. Thanks so much for the reviews... Hilarious how we're all cheering for Draco to just fucking tell her already. None of that in this chapter, alas. Just some mild smut and some major drama. You know. Just that. As you can probably guess, shit goes DOWN after this chapter... So review, my dears! Oh, and I've added more goods to my profile, including some AMAZING fan art for this story (as well as some from The Boy in the Hammock, a little delayed). Merciful heavens, you folks are talented! _

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>While Draco was shuffling awkwardly around his true feelings for Hermione, Lucius was losing patience elsewhere.<p>

He was growing tired of Harry and Ron hinting that they were close to a breakthrough, and decided to take matters into his own hands. If the imbeciles were so close, why was the Dark Lord still in power? Narcissa needed to be avenged and he was done with waiting. Telling Draco how they fell in love had reopened old wounds and unleashed painful memories. He was itching for retribution. Apparently handing them what was essentially a manual of Death Eater operations wasn't enough for the bloody Order. It was time to steer things right, as much as they would let him.

He began popping into Headquarters for a couple of hours a day to meet with the core group. Hermione had adjusted the floo so he could get through without being rerouted, pleased that he wanted to take a more active role in the planning. Although everyone was a bit standoffish with Lucius at first, it was clear they appreciated the guidance, and slowly, they warmed up to him.

Everyone, that is, except Mad-Eye Moody.

The two men still hated each other with a fiery passion. Mad-Eye seemed convinced Lucius was fixing to turn on them the second he had a chance, despite everyone's protests to the contrary. Lucius sneered that if the Order needed the help of a wandless former Death Eater so badly, perhaps Mad-Eye should get into a new line of work. The spat kept things just frosty enough not to be overly chummy, but Lucius seemed to prefer it that way. He wanted to see the Dark Lord brought down - he didn't want to make friends.

The deeper he got into their operations, the better he became at directing them. He tweaked their plans, pulled them away from pointless missions, and taught them the secrets of the manor bit by bit. They had a ways to go, but they would get there. He could tell they all wanted to fight. For him, he'd been separated from his wand for so long that he was content with the planning for now. He liked the control it gave him, and he finally felt useful after so many months of passive, albeit comfortable, existence.

Mad-Eye made things difficult as much as he could - he refused to tell Lucius the nature of their final mission, the one that was holding them back so far, but Lucius could figure it out on his own. It was clear that they were having trouble finding the last horcrux. Lucius had given them the location and security details of the sanctuary where Nagini was being kept - he didn't see what the delay was. _Idiots_. No matter. Eventually they would succeed, and then things would really start to move. Until then, it was all about preparation.

Lucius was free to roam around Headquarters on his daily visits, but the door to the basement remained locked to him. He could guess why. Wolf was being held down there. The Order made sure to keep the area well secured, especially now that Lucius was a fixture in the house. Everyone could see the murderous glint in his eye when anyone discussed their Imperioused prisoner.

Miraculously, it had become clear that Wolf didn't seem to have passed any of Hermione's security information along to the Death Eaters, likely an intervention from his 'weaker side' as he still liked to call him when he was aware enough to speak. He spent most of his time under sedation so that he wouldn't try to end his life under the order of his host, and he was being treated by Rose when he was fully unconscious. Everyone wanted to know who had cast the spell that kept him captive, but unsurprisingly, he'd been extremely uncooperative when they attempted to find out. Tonks still had scars to prove it.

Under the roof of 12 Grimmauld Place, the official and unofficial members of the Order inched closer to their looming, terrifying goal.

* * *

><p>The new spare hours of alone time in the house had a curious effect on Draco and Hermione.<p>

Despite the fact that they were both adults, they suddenly felt a bit like teenagers while their parents were on vacation, and began to act accordingly. Although they shared a bed, the depressing reality of the night terrors kept them sobered, and they hadn't pushed their boundaries beyond the comforting routine they had established. Having time alone when sleep wasn't in the cards changed things completely.

The first few days, they simply snogged and groped each other for an hour and a half until they were panting and flushed, their clothing technically _on_ but completely askew. Draco threw himself into a cold shower afterwards so that he would be able to function normally for the rest of the evening. Merlin knew that woman drove him to complete stupidity with a simple heated look - recovering from these intense snogging sessions was getting more and more difficult.

One day, Hermione brazenly announced that she was taking a shower, and that Draco was welcome to join her. Draco's jaw dropped to the floor, and he ran after her like a lost puppy. Under the steaming water, naked and slippery with soap, Draco dropped to his knees and decided that since he couldn't figure out how to tell Hermione he was in love with her, he would put his mouth to use in other ways. When she climaxed against his tongue, perched on the edge of the bath with her thighs propped up on his shoulders, repeating his given name like a mantra, he wondered briefly if she would ever consider having his babies. He wanted her that much. He wanted her forever.

The next day, she reciprocated, and Draco was astounded that he had ever been annoyed with her mouth in school. Her lips used to remind him that she was an insufferable swot. Now they made him delirious with pleasure, and when she flicked her tongue up his length, he exploded with a convulsive gasp, whimpering as he came down from his peak.

Some days, she used her hands on him until he completely lost it, coming so strongly that he could barely hold in his hoarse cries.

Some days, he finished her with his fingers until he could feel her walls tightening and convulsing around his digits.

He was still waiting for her signal when she was ready to go further, but if he got to pass the days like this, he wasn't about to complain. In his strange cocoon, hidden away from the war, he decided that he had the rest of his life to make love to her. There was no need to rush it.

* * *

><p>Lucius frowned at the Order members gathered around him. Surely he had misheard them. It was too soon for this.<p>

"What do you mean you're _ready_?" he asked.

"Just what we said, Lucius," snarled Mad-Eye. "We're ready for the final battle."

Lucius's frown deepened. "I was not under the impression that you were sufficiently prepared to attack the manor. You said you still had missions underway. Crucial missions."

Lupin cut in, shooting a harsh look at Mad-Eye. Everyone was getting tired of the bickering between the two men. It was a veritable pissing match. "What Moody means to say, Lucius, is that Harry and Ron finally finished the mission they've been working on for quite some time, and they were successful, thanks to your clues. We are now able to facilitate a meeting between You-Know-Who and Harry in the form of what we hope will be a final battle. We wouldn't have been ready at this point if it weren't for the information you've given us, but with your help, we feel we're prepared."

Lucius looked around at the faces in the room, taking in each expression. They ranged from being defiant to being terrified. He wondered how ready they really were. There was no going back once you decided to invade the house of the enemy.

"When are you hoping to do this?" he asked.

"In two days," said Harry. Lucius couldn't read Harry's expression, which troubled him.

"Who knows about this?" he asked.

"Only the people in this room, but after this meeting, we will start alerting our supports and safe houses," said Ron. "We'll need all the help we can get."

There was a strange, oppressive tension in the air. Everyone looked at Lucius expectantly. He resisted the urge to sneer. What, _now_ they treated him like their leader? It was almost comical - they'd all spent so much time preparing for this, and now that it was upon them, everyone was scared out of their wits. Lucius wasn't scared, but then again, he still had no wand. He had no choice but to remain home while everyone else threw themselves in the line of danger. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet.

"What can I do?" he said, eventually.

Harry appeared to relax. "We were hoping you could go over the plans, see if you can spot any problems. You and I can do that, Lucius. The group needs to prepare and I can relay any changes to them."

"Of course," said Lucius.

"Alright, let's go, you lot... We've got a battle to win," barked Mad-Eye, shooting a final glare at Lucius. He returned the look in spades.

The group started to filter out, and Harry came to sit in front of Lucius. Lucius could tell he had plenty on his mind other than the final battle. The young man rubbed his scar agitatedly, and then glanced over his shoulder to make sure everyone was gone. With a flick of his wand, he placed a silencing charm on the room.

Lucius arched a cool eyebrow at him.

"Listen, I had some things I wanted to discuss with you before we go over the plans," said Harry.

"That much is obvious," he replied, dryly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Okay, to start, I've been trying to get Mad-Eye to give you back your wand. You and Draco. So you can both fight if you want, or defend yourselves or... I don't know. He's... He's not agreeing, to say the least. Still thinks you're some sort of threat. Placed a charm on your wands... Anyway. I'm not happy about it, but he'd not changing his mind. Says you'll get them when you really need them. Stubborn as hell, he is." Harry rolled his eyes at this point, much to the surprise of Lucius.

"I know you're not a threat," he continued, looking Lucius straight in the eyes. "In fact, unless I'm way off the mark, I believe you've had a genuine change of faith. I believe it's because of Hermione. I think you've grown to care for her, and she's opened your eyes. You never would have given us so much information if it wasn't for her."

Lucius didn't bother to interrupt, and Harry took that both as an affirmation and an invitation to keep talking.

"I also know that Draco and Hermione are together. They seem to be crazy about each other, as bizarre as that is. I won't pretend to understand it. Although Draco and I have never gotten along, I can see how well he treats her, and I'm not interested in questioning her judgement. She deserves to be happy, and he seems to keep her that way."

Lucius was genuinely surprised at Harry's mature insight. He'd been judging the boy a little too harshly, perhaps. He assumed Potter and the Weasley boy were simply biding their time until they could corner his son and threaten him away from Hermione.

"Look... I'm going about this the wrong way," Harry said, running his hands through his messy hair, looking exasperated. "What I actually want to say is... Ron and I... We don't want Hermione fighting in the final battle."

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, not following Harry's logic.

"You and Draco will be without your wands, so you won't be able to fight either. I want Hermione to stay in the house with you both. I don't want her to come try to help and have a relapse, or get hurt, or killed... I want her to be safe. You've probably noticed her tweaking the security at the house since Wolf got in - that place is a fortress. Probably safer than Headquarters. She's got all kinds of strange spells guarding the house now. I want her to stay there during the battle, and that way... If I'm not successful..." he trailed off, looking away.

Lucius was disturbed. "Mr. Potter, are you insinuating what I think you are? If you are unsuccessful, as you've so helpfully dubbed it, and the Dark Lord triumphs, you are hoping Hermione will stay hidden in the house as he takes over our world?"

Harry frowned. "I didn't really mean for you to take it to that extreme, but something like that, yes. You and your son would be safe too. And if I'm successful, she'll still be alright. Obviously I'm hoping to be successful."

Lucius sighed and shook his head. "You've known her far longer than I, and you're still suggesting this?"

Harry looked away, guiltily.

"She would never forgive you for leaving her out. You know this. Give her the option, Mr. Potter. Perhaps she would choose to stay at the house with my son. Merlin knows it would kill her to leave him. But give her the option. If she finds out that you've gone to battle without telling her..."

"Yes yes, I know. She'll flip. More than flip. I don't even want to think about it, frankly. But my concern is her safety, not whether she'll ever talk to me again." Determination set in on his face, and Lucius frowned.

"Why should I agree to this?"

"Because you care about her too!" Harry said, looking desperate. "You know there's a huge risk of her freezing up if she goes to fight. She's been doing so well lately, but that's inside her house. She slips into a state at the wrong time and she's dead, Lucius. I can't live with that. I don't want to risk losing her, especially not after everything she's been through. If she knows, she'll insist on coming. She knows how short we are on Healers. She has a completely insane sense of duty, and now that she's getting better, I think she'd risk herself again."

Lucius sighed heavily. Harry had a point, of course. Hermione was far more vulnerable than others in battle. Being surrounded by that much death and chaos could certainly send her into one of her fits. He shuddered to think about what would happen to her then - losing focus for a second meant certain death when faced with fully-trained Dark soldiers.

But to lie to her? He didn't care if she never forgave Harry, but he didn't want her angry at him. And he didn't even want to consider how she would react if her friends simply never came back. That would break her mind for good, recovery be damned.

"I can't make any promises, but I will try to stay out of your way if you insist on going through with this. If she asks me directly, Mr. Potter, I will not lie to her. I don't like the idea of being dishonest with her."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. "Okay. If that's all you'll give me, I'll take it," Harry said, sounding defeated. "Now can we look through the plans?"

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron came to visit Hermione the following night. They had been stopping by less and less lately, and she was thrilled to see them. When they stepped out of the floo, she let out a happy cry.<p>

"You're here! I feel like you guys never come visit anymore!" she said, hugging them both.

"Sorry 'Mione... We've been really busy," said Harry with a strained smile. Ron wore a matching facial expression. They both looked anxious.

She raised an eyebrow at their funny demeanour, but didn't say anything. They would tell her over tea, no doubt. Maybe Ron was finally going to fess up to dating Rose. Hermione had seen the looks they shot each other, and thought they made a cute couple - she didn't understand why the boys were acting so weird about it.

But tea was a very quiet affair, and the conversation was one-sided as Hermione tried to get them chatting. She looked between her friend's drawn faces and felt a pit of worry start to grab hold in her gut. This wasn't about Rose.

"Harry, Ron..." she said, trying to sound casual. "Is everything okay? You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

She caught their guilty looks and clenched her jaw. She did not like being kept in the dark.

"'Course 'Mione," said Ron, putting on a fake smile. "We're just tired is all."

"Okay," said Hermione, stirring her drink, worry burrowing a little deeper inside her. It felt like Hogwarts again. They acted this way every time they hatched a hairbrained plan without her. "So I don't need to worry that you're both planning to do something stupid?"

She saw their eyes widen just a fraction before they remembered to hide their surprise.

"Come on 'Mione. Since when do we do that?" Harry joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Hermione glanced over at Lucius, who was reading on the couch. His jaw was clenched too. He didn't look impressed.

_Uh oh_, she thought. _This isn't looking good_.

"Is everything going okay with your mission then?" she asked. Last time they had updated her, things had been going really well for them. The information they had gotten from Lucius had sped up their work, and they were getting closer than they ever had to ending their search. They had even found the location of the final horcrux. That was at least a month ago, though. What had happened?

"Oh, yeah, things are great," Ron croaked. "Really great. We're, uh, super close to finding it."

Hermione tried not to narrow her eyes at his obvious lie. If she had to guess by his tone, they had either not found the horcrux after all, or they had already destroyed it.

If they hadn't found it, well then, it would just take more time.

If it was destroyed, then...

Hermione choked in her tea, coughing violently as it traveled down her air pipe. Both Harry and Ron stood up quickly and patted her on the back as she regained her composure.

If it was destroyed, and if they had gotten enough information on the manor from Lucius, then they were ready for battle.

_No. Not a chance. They would tell me if they were planning something so serious. They wouldn't do that to me. They wouldn't lie to me_.

A few tears escaped her eyes, and she wiped them away, mumbling something about how they were brought on by the coughing attack. Her boys nodded in understanding. She tried to sort out the facts in her mind. The horcrux had been the missing piece for so long. The other obstacle had been infiltrating the manor, but with Lucius around, that probably wasn't an issue anymore.

She glanced at Lucius again. He was rubbing his temples with a scowl on his face. Something was bothering him.

_They wouldn't, would they? They wouldn't leave for battle without telling me_.

"We should get back, 'Mione," said Ron quietly. "Got some things to prepare over at Headquarters."

When they stood by the floo on their way out, each of them crushed her into warm hugs. It was a much more serious goodbye than the usual peck on the cheek. The pit of worry in her stomach started to branch out to her toes.

"You know we love you, right 'Mione?" said Ron, his voice wavering.

"Yeah, you know that, right?" echoed Harry.

She looked at them in alarm. Was it her imagination running wild, or were they just confirming her biggest fears?

_They wouldn't do that to me. They would tell me. They wouldn't leave me here_.

"I know, and I love you both too," she said, warily. "But what's going on? You're not keeping anything from me, are you? You're both acting very strange." She knew she was starting to sound panicked, but she didn't want to accuse them of anything before she'd had a chance to think everything through.

They shook their heads. "We'll be back again in a few days," said Ron. "Just going on a quick mission."

_They wouldn't do that to me_.

With a last look, Harry and Ron disappeared into the flames.

Hermione glanced at Lucius while he pretended to read his book.

"Did you find that they were acting strangely?" she said. Lucius looked more agitated than ever. She was starting to feel sick from nerves.

"They are always acting strangely in my opinion, my dear," he responded non-committally.

_They wouldn't do that to me_.

She headed back to her bedroom with a slight run. Draco was just stepping out of the shower when she barged through the door.

"Malfoy?" she said, panting. He raised his eyebrows at her as he towelled off his hair.

"Granger?" he responded, looking worried. "You okay?"

"I'm just..." she felt her voice crack. "I'm just..."

He was at her side in two long steps, tucking his towel around his waist as he walked. His hands went to her shoulders.

"What's wrong? You're upset."

She felt like she was hyperventilating and fought to keep her breathing in check. The panic was rising in her throat.

"Harry and Ron..."

His eyes narrowed.

"What did those tossers say?"

"No no, nothing like that... It's just that they were acting strange just now. Really strange. Draco, I'm worried they're going to do something stupid."

His eyebrows rose at the sound of her using his first name. She usually only used it in the throes of passion... Or when things were getting serious. Not that he was really complaining. Still, it told him she was really affected by whatever happened with Potter and Weasley.

"What kind of stupid?" he asked, carefully. It was all too easy to insult her idiot friends, and she probably didn't need that right now.

"You don't think... I mean... " She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "You don't think they would leave for the final battle without telling me, right? Honestly, I think I must be getting paranoid or something, but they were being really odd and I couldn't help but wonder... "

She trailed off, biting her lower lip and frowning as her brain ran circles around itself.

Draco didn't know what to say. On one hand, it would be stupid and cruel for Potter and Weasley to leave her in the dark about something so important. On the other hand, they did go to insane lengths to protect her. It was one of the only things Draco respected about them. He really, really hoped there was no final battle in the works. Everything had been going so well lately.

"Is there a reason they would do such a thing?" he asked gently, trying not to make any concrete statements about her friends' intentions.

She bit her lip harder, and he cringed as he saw a drop of blood rise to the surface.

"They may have convinced themselves that it would be the only way to protect me. To stop me from trying to help."

They stood in silence for a moment. Draco eventually took his thumb to her lip and very gently brushed away the blood.

"What are you thinking, Granger?"

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a minute.

"I think I'll floo to Headquarters tomorrow and talk to them. This could very well be my imagination, and I don't want to raise the alarm for nothing." She smiled at him then, and he kissed her softly.

"Bed?" she said. He was all too happy to pull her under the covers, trying hard to ignore the feeling of dread that was building in his stomach.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_LOVING your feedback. If you're scared, say it with me now: angst, not tragedy. For the most part. On that happy note, let's get our hearts battered up a bit, hey? For those of you who are curious, I *think* the story will cap out at 21 chapters, but I'm not sure, because I'm still typing away. We shall see. Reviews for updates! And trust me, you're going to want this update... ;)_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Hermione tossed and turned all night, eventually falling into a fitful sleep under Draco's worried gaze. He had sincerely hoped that her fears were unfounded, that Potter and Weasley were just being moody, but now he wasn't sure. He'd never seen her this agitated. She wasn't the type to get worked up over nothing.<p>

What would happen if it were true? If her friends were getting ready to go to fight the Dark Lord without her? Without _telling_ her?

Draco grudgingly admitted to himself that he understood their motivations, but if this was their plan, it was a stupid one complete with giant gaping holes. Coming to say goodbye and being visibly upset? _Of course_ Hermione would pick up on that, those fucking amateurs. She had kept them out of trouble for over half her life - she had a built-in bullshit detector when it came to those two. Now that her mind was functioning clearly, there was nothing in the way of her noticing their glaring guilt. Her intelligence hadn't dulled under the static. She was still sharp as a knife. She could sniff them out.

Not only that, but what if they both died in battle? One day they're saying goodbye, telling her they'll see her soon, and the next day they're dead and the Dark Lord is crushing the wizarding world under his thumb. Hermione's brain would come apart. Draco knew that even _he_ couldn't pull her out of a loss that severe. What then? Did they even think of that?

Stupid fucking Wonder Duo. If the three of them had been on speaking terms, Draco would have happily pointed out all the problems with their insane plan. As it was, he rarely saw them now, and kept out of the way when they visited Hermione. He had still been too angry about Wolf to risk being in the same room as them without making an attempt on their lives. Why they kept that pathetic excuse for a man alive was beyond him. So he was under the influence of a spell. He _assaulted_ and _attempted to rape_ Hermione. Draco would have gladly pummelled him to death. Still would, if he got the chance.

Draco thought about it a little more. Hermione seemed intent on visiting Potter and Weasley when she woke up, and Draco figured that wasn't a bad idea. She could ask them outright, tear a strip off of them, and then come back to the house. Back to safety. Expose their plan and then be done with it. Yes. That would work.

Something in the back of his mind poked him aggressively.

_Don't forget why they didn't want to tell her_.

Draco growled at his brain to shut up.

_Don't ignore the possibility that she might go fight_.

Draco fought off the feeling of panic and told his brain to cease and desist.

But the seed had been planted.

Potter and Weasley's plan was idiotic, yes, but it served one crucial purpose. Keeping Hermione away from the war. Of course she would consider fighting. This was it. This was the final battle. If it was really going to happen, she would consider it. No, beyond that, she would probably feel duty-bound to go. The Wonder Duo knew that better than anyone. They knew what she was like.

_Goddamn it_, he was getting a glimpse inside their brains, and he was furious to discover that they weren't as mind-numbingly stupid as he had always assumed. They may need to brush up on their acting skills, but they knew how to protect her. They knew what her reaction would be the second they decided to fight.

What now?

What if Hermione joined the battle and never came back to him?

_I can't lose her_. _Fucking hell, I couldn't handle it_.

Draco wasn't able to fall asleep after all.

* * *

><p>Hermione rolled out of bed just after dawn, dead tired and nervous as ever. She stumbled into the shower and tried to wake herself up. As she pulled on her clothes, the heavy feeling in her stomach felt like it was dragging her down. Her gut was tingling with warning. She didn't like this at all. With a groan, she started brushing out her hair.<p>

Eventually she realized that Draco was watching her from the pile of covers on the bed. Knowing how unhinged she must look, Hermione let out a deep sigh and crawled back into bed with him. She smiled contentedly as he wrapped his arms around her, sliding her into the warmth of the sheets and his bare torso.

"You make me so happy," she murmured into his chest.

He chuckled. "Jeez Granger, keep talking like that and you'll never be rid of me."

"I never want to be rid of you, silly boy," she chastized sleepily. He pulled her in tighter.

"I slept terribly," she said.

"Me too," he said.

"I just want to sort this out, you know? Make sure I'm not imagining things. Then I'll feel better."

"Glad to hear it," he said.

There was a moment of silence.

"Hermione?"

She looked at him, both puzzled and pleased at the sound of her first name. He used it so rarely.

"What will happen if you're right about this?"

She thought about it for a while, nervousness burning a hole in her stomach.

"I honestly don't know, Draco. I'm hoping it will all become clearer when I talk to them."

They clung to each other for another half an hour before they reluctantly got up to face the day.

Draco prayed to the Gods that his suspicions were wrong.

* * *

><p>To their surprise, Lucuis was already up when they walked into the kitchen. He was staring at his cup of tea looking deeply disgruntled.<p>

"Lucius? Are you alright?" asked Hermione, walking over and squeezing his shoulder.

He looked up and gave her a tired smile.

"Had some difficulty sleeping," he said in a scratchy voice.

"Us too," she said. "Must be something in the air."

Draco watched the interaction suspiciously. His father had always been a heavy sleeper. What was on his mind? Could it be that he knew something about Potter and Weasley? He had been seeing them both a lot lately. It wasn't impossible that he overheard something.

"Listen, I hope it's okay with both of you, but I just need to speak with Harry and Ron really fast. I'll cook up a proper meal when I get back - I'm hoping that I won't be long."

Draco did not miss the expression of alarm on his father's face as Hermione walked quickly towards the floo.

_Fuck. FUCK_. He did know something. What the hell was happening to his quiet little haven? This could ruin everything. Draco fought down another wave of panic and watched Hermione approach the fireplace.

Hermione stood in the floo and dropped the handful of powder, calling out for Headquarters.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, and called it out again.

Still nothing.

Both Malfoys watched her with held breath. She looked like she was thinking very quickly, gears turning as her eyes darted around the hearth.

She stepped out of the floo and pointed her wand at it, murmuring a few spells under her breath. Her brow was furrowed and she looked tense enough to snap.

Draco caught his father's eye. Lucius looked like he was about to be sick.

Hermione gasped. "Harry, how _could_ you?" she hissed to the room in general.

"G-Granger?" Draco stammered.

"That meddling little..." she trailed off and started reciting more spells, diagnostics on the floo.

"Granger, please talk to me," Draco pleaded, walking towards her. "You're worrying me."

His statement seemed to get her attention and she turned towards him. Angry tears were welling up in her eyes. She looked furious and heartbroken all in one go.

"Malfoy... They... They blocked the floo. I think I was right. And I think... Oh God, they wouldn't do that to me, would they?"

"What?" he asked, feeling desperate as she began to unravel, her breathing becoming quick and uneven.

"I think they've already left to fight," she said, her voice cracking as the tears started to escape, running in rivers down her cheeks.

Draco gaped. He was _not_ expecting them to already be gone. That changed everything.

Lucius let out a barely audible groan, and Hermione's eyes snapped over to him.

"Lucius, tell me you didn't know anything about this," she said in a shaky voice.

He looked at the ground and rubbed his forehead angrily. He didn't respond.

"Father!" exclaimed Draco. "You're not serious... You _knew_?"

The news made Hermione whimper and she dropped to her knees, staring at Lucius in horror.

"Why?" she sobbed. "Why would you keep that from me?"

Lucius looked completely torn. "Hermione, please... I promised Mr. Potter I wouldn't lie to you if you asked me, but I also agreed not to tell you outright... He wanted you to be kept safe."

"Safe?" she shouted through the tears. "I deserve to know! I deserve to know if my best friends and so many people I care about are marching off to die!"

"I told them as much," Lucius pleaded. "I told them to give you the choice, to let you know in advance, but they would hear nothing of it."

"Why did you agree?" she cried.

"Because I am a selfish old man, and I also wanted to keep you safe," he said, sounding drained. "I'm so sorry Hermione. But the risk of you relapsing if you decided to join in the fighting..."

"It's my choice," she said, frostily. "I should be able to weigh the risks and make an informed decision. Do you know how many Order members we have? Just over two hundred, not including support troops. Do you know how many trained Healers we have? One. Two, if you include me. Tell me Lucius: my life, or the life of everyone who won't get help when they need it?"

"Yours," both Malfoys responded.

Her eyes turned to Draco in surprise.

"Not you too..." she whispered.

"Of course me too!" said Draco in a panicked voice. "They should have told you, but their intentions... I hate to say I agree with them, but you can't go fight Hermione! If your brain checks out in the path of somebody's wand, I'll lose you. I can't lose you!" He dropped to his knees in front of her so he could look her in the eye, holding her shoulders. "I love you," he said, quietly, amazed that after all his stupid planning, he was telling her like this. "I love you, and I can't have you leave and not come back."

Hermione looked at him sadly.

"I love you too Draco, but I will not leave my friends to die." She pulled out of his grip and stood up, leaving him with his mouth hanging open. With a quick kick, she lifted the corner of the rug to reveal a strange carving in the wood floor underneath. It was in the shape of a lion.

"What on earth..." said Lucius.

"Both of you, give me your hands," she ordered, holding out her palm. Draco was too stunned to disobey, standing up on shaky legs and holding out his hand to her. He couldn't process what was happening.

"_Now_ Lucius," she said angrily, and Lucius walked over quickly and offered his hand, clearly confused.

With her wand, she made a small cut on both their thumbs, ignoring their surprised gasps, and squeezed out some blood. It slowly dripped downwards, over their skin, and onto the carving. The house shuddered as if an earthquake had rumbled past. Hermione said a quick incantation and pointed her wand at the lion, making it glow for a moment before it went back to normal. All the blood had absorbed.

"What was that? What are you doing?" Draco whispered, feeling broken and disoriented. He was going to lose her after all. After everything.

"The house belongs to all of us now, not just me. If will recognize you if you leave and need to come back. It will protect and hide you from just about anything. I have no idea what's going to happen today, and I need you both to be safe."

She walked away from the stunned Malfoys and headed to the spare room, emerging seconds later with a small bag. Draco knew it contained medical supplies. He felt like his world was crumbling. She loved him. She loved him, and he was losing her.

"Please don't do this Granger," he rasped. "Please don't leave me."

She looked up at him and he could see she was crying again.

"Don't make this harder than it is," she whispered, touching his face as tears dripped off her chin. "I plan on coming back, but I have to go help. Mad-Eye never told me where he kept your wands, otherwise I would bring you with me. But I can't bring you without those... I want to see you again too, you know. You can't go into a battle without them. It would be suicide."

Draco looked at his father and saw with a start that Lucius was also struggling with his emotions. Fuck, the tables had certainly turned on them. The two remaining Malfoys begging Muggle-born Hermione Granger not to leave them, to stay hidden in a house with them forever.

"I love you so much, Draco," she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek, her tears brushing off on his skin. "I will come back."

"I love you too," he croaked. "I should have told you sooner."

"Doesn't matter," she smiled, shaking her head. "I could feel it. I've felt it for a while now."

"What about your mind?" Lucius said, desperately. "What if you can't take the fighting?"

She sighed. "It's a valid point, of course, but I've never felt stronger and I honestly think I can manage it. I made it through being tortured without relapsing. I'll be okay." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry I got angry at you, Lucius. You've been very good to me. I may not agree with your actions, but I appreciate your concern for my safety."

She turned back towards the floo with a look of concentration on her face.

"What are you going to do?" said Draco.

"Hack my own floo, of course," she said. "I'm getting into Headquarters whether they want me there or not. If everyone's gone, as I suspect they are, I'll go to the manor and help where I can."

She placed her hands on the hearth and began reciting a spell Draco didn't recognize. After about thirty seconds of chanting, a loud BOOM echoed through the house, and some smoke drifted out of the fireplace.

She stood back and looked at her work appraisingly. "Harry was never very good at this stuff," she muttered.

Turning towards the two Malfoys, her lower lip started to tremble.

"I will come back," she forced out. "I will." She pecked Lucius on the cheek, and gave Draco a hard, desperate kiss on the mouth.

"I love you," she whispered to him.

And then, in a puff of green smoke, she was gone.

* * *

><p>When she left through the floo, Draco sank to his knees again and stared at the empty fireplace.<p>

He felt his fathers hands on his shoulders. It was extremely rare for his father to offer comfort like this, but Draco appreciated the action.

"I'm so sorry, son," Lucius said, and then he walked away slowly, looking devastated. He sat at the kitchen table.

Draco stayed kneeling in front of the fireplace for several minutes.

"Where do you suppose Mad-Eye hid our wands?" Draco said, eventually. It was a stretch, but if they could find their wands, they could get themselves to the manor and find Hermione before she got hurt.

"I have a theory, but I don't think you're going to want to hear it."

"Try me," snapped Draco, suddenly feeling very angry at the world.

Lucius sighed. "I suspect that he charmed them only to appear when we really needed them." It was an evasive answer and Draco didn't like it.

He looked at his father quizzically. "What do you mean? We need them _now_."

"I mean I think our wands will appear if Hermione gets badly injured, or... If she dies. The idea was that she was supposed to protect us. I think after the incident with Wolf, Mad-Eye decided on a charm that would give us means to protect ourselves if anything like that ever happened again. He didn't want to make it easy. The man hates us. I overheard him arguing with Potter about it and pieced the details together myself."

Draco felt ill.

"So if our wands appear..."

Lucius nodded sadly. "Something's happened."

"That's sick," Draco said, his hands shaking.

"Yes. It is."

"I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't make it back."

Lucius sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands.

"I'm so sorry, son."

* * *

><p>Hermione stepped into Headquarters with a sob.<p>

The kitchen was empty, and she knew instinctively that the house was as well. Headquarters buzzed with activity, even when it was low on occupants. Now it was deathly silent. So there was a battle after all.

If she ever saw Harry and Ron again, they would feel the angry end of her wand.

But right now, she needed to sit down at the kitchen table, collect her thoughts, and let herself cry. It had been so hard to hold herself together in front of Draco, but now she felt nearly hysterical. Draco and Lucius were right, of course. She may be killed today. She may never see them again.

She may never share a bed with him again.

She may never get to make love to him. Gods, why on earth had she waited? It seemed so silly now.

Draco's grey eyes floated across her mind and she decided right then that death was not acceptable. She had to get back to him. She had promised. She loved him so much it scared her, and as it turned out, he loved her too.

Death would just have to wait.

Something caught her eye just then, a pile of fabric sitting at the end of the otherwise-bare table. There was a note on top. She stood up and walked over, eyeing the mysterious object.

The card had on word on the front: Hermione.

She opened it cautiously.

_Hermione,_

_If you are reading this, it means you are too smart for your own good, and you know that we've gone to fight. We're sorry that we kept it from you, but please believe we were only worried about your safety. You are like a sister to us, and we've seen enough of you getting hurt to last a lifetime. If you are still going to insist on following us, which you probably are if you've gotten this far, please use the Invisibility Cloak we've left for you. Stay safe so we can see you when this is all over. We hope we're leaving this note for nothing, but you are the brightest witch of your age, after all. _

_Love you always,_

_Harry and Ron_

_PS, Stay out of the basement - there's a Wolf in it._

Hermione felt herself smiling through the tears. Those boys. They knew her so well. She touched the smooth fabric of the cloak, marvelling at its flawless construction. This would help her stay safe for sure. This would help her see Harry and Ron again, but Draco too, and Lucius.

She heard the CRACK of apparition and jumped, a small shriek escaping her lips. Nobody can apparate into Headquarters except...

"Miss Hermione?" said a familiar voice.

"Dobby!" she cried, and ran over to hug the surprised elf. "It's been so long since I've seen you!"

"Dobby has been away helping our friends in the North!" said the elf, both happy and shocked. "But now Dobby has come back to fight. What is Miss doing here? Dobby thought Miss was ill..."

"I was ill, Dobby, but I'm better now. I'm going to fight too. I was just about to leave."

A thought occurred to her, and she decided to chance it.

"Dobby, just in case I don't come back from the battle and you do..." Dobby frowned nervously as she continued. "Could you just see to it that... Well... I've been taking care of the Malfoys at my house, and they're hiding there now. Could you just make sure they are looked after if I don't make it home?"

Dobby's eyes widened dramatically, and Hermione wondered if she had asked too much of the elf. She remembered that Lucius had been a particularly awful Master and felt immediately guilty.

"The Malfoy men are... Alive?" said Dobby, astounded.

Hermione nodded. She had forgotten that their rescue and protection under the Order had been fairly hush hush. Not even the safe houses had been told.

"Yes. I know it's not widely known, but they've changed, Dobby, and I've grown to care for them very much. I want to make sure they're okay no matter what happens to me."

A strange expression crossed Dobby's face. "Of course, Miss Hermione," he said eventually. "Anything for you."

"Thank you Dobby," she said, and kissed the elf on the cheek. "I'm going out front to apparate. Are you joining me?"

Dobby shook his head, causing his ears to flap. "No Miss, Dobby will meet you there."

"Okay. Take care of yourself," she said, picking up the cloak and leaving the room with a sad smile.

Dobby stood in the kitchen for a minute gathering his thoughts.

"The Malfoys are alive," he whispered to himself. "Dobby has a visit to make."

With a CRACK, he was gone.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Super early update to thank you for being awesome. Welcome to the final battle, y'all. Expect some blood. The story is winding down slowly... I can't believe it! Still a few more chapters, but man, this has been fun. I love all your guesses! I'm not going to tell you which ones of you are on the right track, but I'm pretty excited about the ending. Keep up the reviews... We're actually sneaking up to The Boy in the Hammock reviews-wise! Think we can match it? I BELIEVE IN YOU. It's a fan fic smackdown. Sorry about the cliffy, by the way, but it's hard to avoid when there is so much going on. (Oh, more awesome fan art up on my profile! Dudes, you spoil me.) _

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Hermione stood in the park across the street from 12 Grimmauld Place, readying herself to apparate. Before her mind crumbled, she used to make a habit of prepping herself for battle by centering her thoughts and gathering her courage. It was a way of reminding herself what she was fighting for. It had been years now since she'd marched off to fight, but she figured that it couldn't hurt to get herself focused, especially since she felt like an absolute emotional wreck. Draco's pleas for her not to leave him were echoing around in her heart like a pinball and she felt like her chest was going to collapse from the strain.<p>

She wrapped herself in the cloak and took a deep breath. The feel of it was so familiar to her... It had the same effect as an old jumper or a favourite blanket. Her body relaxed. She could almost feel Harry and Ron next to her, crowding underneath to keep covered on their way to some mission or another, or just for some rule breaking at school. It brought a smile to her lips. Merlin, those boys meant a lot to her, even if she was furious with them.

Next, she wanted to remember what she was fighting for. It wasn't hard. Harry and Ron. Draco and Lucius. The Order. The freedom of their world.

Anthony, taken from her way too soon.

Her parents.

Every Muggle or Muggle-born child who shouldn't have to worry about being harmed by Pureblood supremacists.

She felt her eyes well up again and shook away the tears. Now was not the time to cry. People needed her help, and she had to hold it together. No slipping into static. No hesitation. She had a job to do, and she had to stay alive while she was doing it.

_Okay Hermione, get ready. This is it. Expect the worst_.

And then she was gone, leaving only her dewy footprints in the empty park. The early morning sun continued to rise in the sky, oblivious to the battle taking place not too far away.

* * *

><p>She had told herself to expect the worst, and she got it.<p>

Hermione apparated as far away as she could from the manor while still remaining on the property. She had been there on missions in the past, and knew the best places to arrive while still keeping hidden. Despite her caution, she stumbled upon landing when her foot caught something on the ground.

Picking herself up from the dirt, nervously pulling the cloak back over herself, she looked back to where she had fallen.

Mad-Eye Moody was there. Or at least, his body was. His throat was slit so deeply she wondered if his attacker had hoped to behead him. Bile rose up her throat and she fought it down. She'd seen more gruesome injuries, but it had been a while. Mad-Eye's good eye was closed while his magical one hung limply in its socket, staring out into nothing.

"Oh, Moody," she said sadly, pushing back another round of tears. "You will be missed, old friend."

It wouldn't do to dwell here. She couldn't help Mad-Eye - he was gone, and probably already arguing with people on the other side of the veil. She had to move on.

Thankfully, Mad-Eye seemed to be the only person at her apparition point. She squinted off into the grounds. They were far away, but she could just make them out. Figures fighting. Some in black, some in red, some moving too quickly to discern... Some human and some beast. A battle on a beautiful sunny day. Total chaos on the picturesque Malfoy grounds. What a strange juxtaposition. Even still, it was exactly as she imagined it would be. War was a juxtaposition too - putting on a brave face when your heart is screaming. Evil people masquerading as good, and vice-versa. Beauty and destruction. Love and death.

_Love_. Oh God, she had to make it through this.

There was an explosion near the house and Hermione jumped into action. She had to get closer... Close enough to help. She didn't come this far to sit in the bushes with her dead friend. She didn't leave Draco to stay on the sidelines. With the cloak wrapped tightly around her, she took off at a run.

It didn't take her long to reach the fighting, and she patted her small medical bag where it hung against her side. There was already blood smeared on the grass, pooling in certain places where people had fallen. Hermione knew she would probably end up using every last supply she brought, filling her little bag until it nearly burst, even with the extension charm.

Neville was the first person she found, bleeding out on the ground and left there by a Death Eater who assumed he would die shortly. They assumed right - Neville was barely clinging to consciousness. Hermione remembered all those times Anthony trained her and said a little thank you under her breath for him. She had helped people in Neville's position before, and she was confident she could do it again. They were still on the very outskirts of the battle, and nobody was around them.

"Neville," Hermione whispered, turning herself to block them in and lifting the cloak slightly to show her face.

"Hermione," he croaked, his eyes widening in recognition.

"I'm going to help you. Just stay calm."

She went to work, and realized almost immediately that she had missed this kind of healing. She'd been running on auto-function for so long that she'd forgotten she was actually a very good Healer. She knew how to improvise, how to adapt to different situations... When her mind was working, she could handle the challenge. Make judgement calls. Work with passion. Her hands moved quickly, sealing and pouring and wiping off blood until Neville had some colour in his cheeks.

"Neville, you're patched up, but you need to lay low for at least ten minutes while the potions do their work," she whispered. "Can you hide?"

He wiggled his feet and hands experimentally and nodded. "Yeah. I'll duck into the bushes for a bit. Thank you so much, 'Mione."

She smiled and squeezed his arm before running off, checking over her shoulder to confirm that he actually was hiding himself. She saw his head disappear into the brush and breathed a sigh of relief. She ran on, finally reaching the battle itself. It was violent anarchy, and she fought not to get in anyone's way while looking for the injured.

Straight ahead, Professor Slughorn was crawling away from the body of a large Death Eater. He had obviously won the fight, but he was badly hurt, bleeding out of a large gash on his stomach. Hermione knew how quickly stomach wounds could get out of hand, and hurried over. She had to get his attention without scaring him - she was invisible, after all.

"Professor!" she hissed and he jumped with fear. "It's Hermione Granger. You can't see me, but I can heal your wound."

"Oh Hermione, thank Merlin!" he cried, and she looked around quickly to make sure nobody had heard him. Thankfully the sounds of battle were drowning out their hushed discussion.

"Lie down behind this boulder; it will only take me a minute," she said, hovering by his side as he crawled towards the rock, dripping blood as he moved. He lay down as directed, his breathing shaky and laboured.

She murmured a few spells and applied a salve to the area as fast as she could. Every second they stayed here left them vulnerable - they were nearly at the epicentre of the battle. People were fighting mere feet away from them, so far too distracted to notice the Professor's toes sticking out from behind the rock. It helped that smoke from the explosion had muddied the otherwise clear line of vision on the field.

"That should do it," she said. "Stay hidden here until you feel well enough to move."

"Thank you, dear," he said, looking right past her. He still couldn't quite figure out where she was. There was no point in correcting him; others needed help.

She ran off, ducking spells and bodies as she looked for more of her own people.

She healed Luna's broken arm and dislocated shoulder after stunning a Death Eater who was intent on finishing her friend off.

She sealed a head injury for an Order member she didn't know, but who took out three Death Eaters in the process of being injured, so she knew who he was fighting for.

Time passed, and the hot noon sun baked down on them as the fighting continued. Hermione didn't slow down. From fixing healing small injuries to doing her best with large ones, she worked at a frantic pace. This was not the time to take it easy. Her supplies were becoming depleated, but there was no point in fretting about that now. She would continue until they were gone, and beyond that, if she could.

After following the sound of someone's pained groans, she found Tonks whipped nearly beyond recognition and broke her no-crying rule, sobbing quietly as she patched her up behind a large oak tree. Tonks deliriously murmured her thanks as Hermione sewed up her back, large pieces of skin pulling back together as she worked. She poured a strong pain potion down her throat before leaving her, knowing that absolutely no amount of begging would keep Tonks from going back to fight.

"How are you doing, 'Mione?" whispered Tonks through the pain as Hermione readied herself to go. "The boys are going to freak when they find out you're here."

"I'm doing okay, Tonks," Hermione said with a sad smile. "The boys will have other things to worry about once I get my hands on them."

As she weaved her way through the battle, she caught a glimpse of red hair peeking out from behind a bush. Her stomach flipped and she ran faster. She knew the hair of a Weasley anywhere. Christ, she didn't know what she'd do if the person she was trying to reach was already dead. Every member of that family was important to her. Every one of them was loved. She rounded the bend.

It was Molly Weasley, gasping for breath as black liquid dribbled out of her mouth. Hermione let out a small cry and scrambled for one of her rarer potions. She'd seen this once before - the spell slowly suffocated the victim by filling up their lungs. Hermione knew how to reverse it, but if she didn't move quickly, absolutely nothing would help.

"Molly, it's Hermione. I'm invisible. I need you to open your mouth as widely as you can... I'm going to try to help you."

Molly made a gurgling sound but opened her mouth wider as the liquid continued to drip off her lips.

Hermione uncorked a small vial of shiny white potion and poured it into Molly's mouth, praising the Gods that she had the foresight to grab the bottle as she was collecting her medical supplies. Taking out her wand, she murmured a spell that would speed up the potion's journey into Molly's lungs. She only prayed it wasn't too late. She could still remember the face of the last person she and Anthony treated with this condition - the young man hadn't made it, in the end. They hadn't reached him quickly enough. She had cried herself to sleep for days, remembering what it was like to see him gasping for breath until he collapsed. That memory was the reason she had grabbed the little vial. _Just in case_.

Several agonizing seconds later, Molly gasped for air. It was a clean-sounding breath, and Hermione almost sobbed with happiness. She was reluctant to admit it, but for a moment there, she thought her brain was going to flicker off. Seeing Molly die would have stretched her limits to the point of assault. No matter - she was shaken, but still lucid. Still able to help. Still strong.

"Molly, I have to help the others. Please stay hidden for a while... Your lungs will take some time to function normally again."

"Hermione," whispered Molly, tears running down her cheeks. "How can I ever thank you, child? I thought there was no hope for me."

"Shhh," said Hermione, pecking the woman on the cheek through the cloak. "Thank me by staying safe until you feel strong enough to get out of here."

Hermione took off in a run, determined to help as many people as she could with the time she had. She still had no idea where Harry and Ron were, but they were probably far away from this battle, looking for Voldemort in the belly of the manor. The fight would continue as long as it took for them to finish him off. She couldn't bear to think of the alternative - it would be a death sentence for everyone she loved.

There was a loud crunching sound ahead and Hermione looked up in shock. A giant was lumbering across her path. His huge feet were caked in blood, and to her horror, she realized it was not his own.

As she scrambled to get out of his way, she tripped on the rocky ground and fell with a smack against a large flat stone. In her rush to get up, she didn't see that her cloak had snagged itself on the jagged edge. She pulled herself to her feet, her legs shaking from the fall.

And then she was exposed. In the same second she realized her error, she heard a triumphant cry from behind her followed by the dreaded words, "Sectumsempra!"

The feeling of her skin splitting was paired with the feeling of side-along apparition as she was whisked away from the battle into the unknown.

* * *

><p>The oppressive silence of the house was broken with the sound of a small POP. Draco's eyes snapped up at the same moment as his father's.<p>

There, on the coffee table between them, were their wands.

Draco let out a tortured scream that dissolved into sobs.

Lucius's hands shook and he swore under his breath.

* * *

><p><em>I've had worse<em>.

It was the first thought that came to her mind, and in many ways, it was true. The twisted benefit of having suffered a nervous breakdown as a result of psychological torture is that everything afterwards seemed mild. Comparisons didn't hold much water. Even being hit with a curse that pulled deep gashes down her body, cris-crossing their way across her torso and back, soaking through her clothes. She would take the gashes over the dead eyes of those children. She would take a _Sectumsempra_ a million times over.

She could manage physical pain.

Unfortunately, she also knew that her body could only lose so much blood before it gave up on her. _That_ was the problem with this situation. Well, that and the fact that she was no longer on the battlefield. She was in a study, richly decorated with tapestries and dark wooden embellishments. It smelled like cedar. She blinked a couple of times and saw that she was in the process of bleeding out onto a beautiful Persian carpet.

_They'll never be able to get these stains out_, she thought groggily as her brain cleared a bit more.

"Wondering where you are, Mudblood?" sneered a female voice.

For a split second, Hermione felt a pang of longing for Draco. That awful word would forever remind her of him, as unfortunate a connection as it was. She missed him. She hoped he was safe.

But then recognition set in, and Hermione realized who was in the study with her.

That voice belonged to Bellatrix.

"Yes, actually," she responded, her voice thick and scratchy. She knew what this meant. _I'm going to die here_.

She had lied to Draco. To her love. She had told him she would come back. The very idea made her want to scream. She had _promised_.

"You're in the manor, in Lucius's old study," said Bellatrix, stepping into view. She looked the same. Sickly. Pale. Completely off her rocker. "But that's not what we're going to talk about right now."

Bellatrix began to circle her, slowly walking around Hermione's bleeding body as she lay splayed out on the carpet.

"I have some questions for you, little one. We have a bit of a score to settle. You got me in trouble. I worked for months and months to find a suitable target to _Imperious_, and you went and ruined everything."

Hermione furrowed her brow. Nothing was making sense.

"My darling Wolf, who had access to everything I wanted, was the perfect target," Bellatrix continued in a falsely calm voice. Hermione could hear the madness underneath. It shone through like a beacon in the darkness. "I had everything planned. He was a close friend of the Order. He had even been inside their Headquarters. And, most importantly, he had daily access to their damaged little princess: you. Harry Potter would do anything for you, wouldn't he?"

She continued to circle and Hermione felt her consciousness twitch. Not much longer until she passed out. Maybe it was better like that... Better to die when you're essentially asleep. She missed Draco so much now. She missed Lucius too. Strange how they had become such an integral part of her life.

"My instructions were so simple," Bellatrix said. It didn't sound like she was talking to Hermione anymore. It sounded like she was talking to herself. "Take you, break you down, bring you to me. It's simple, don't you think? I certainly thought so."

She continued on, not expecting a response.

"I'm very good at the _Imperious_, you know," she cackled, boasting. "I've had lots of practice. Oh, the things I've made people do. But Wolf?"

Bellatrix rounded on Hermione, staring her down. She wasn't smiling anymore.

"You did something to him, didn't you?" she spat. "The imbecile wouldn't follow my orders. It took him ages to finally kidnap you, which should have been dead easy, by the way. He drugged you so you wouldn't feel pain... A blinding contradiction, if I've ever heard one. Then he got someone else to do his dirty work - despite my explicit orders - and then? _He returns you_. Oh sure, he gave me some interesting information, like the fact that you were hiding Lucius and Draco in your filthy Muggle home. Like I care what happens to those useless idiots. The Order was stupid to have saved them. They will remain loyal to the Dark Lord's cause even if the Dark Lord himself throws them out. They never could take a hint. How was it looking after two men who despise you, little Mudblood?"

_You have no idea_, thought Hermione.

She brought her face right in front of Hermione's, displaying her rotting teeth and sunken eyes in all their glory. Hermione felt her vision blur.

"The Dark Lord wasn't pleased with me, you know," she whispered. "I was supposed to deliver you to him. You were supposed to be the bait, bring your beloved little Potter out to save you. The Dark Lord trusted me to get this done, and I failed. I'll admit it. But it wasn't my fault. It was yours. You did something to Wolf. After he returned you, I locked him away for weeks. I beat him within an inch of his life. I gave him new orders: to find you, humiliate you, and kill you. It was his punishment for getting too attached to your hideous little face. But you ruined that too, didn't you? I haven't been able to communicate properly with Wolf since. You are always getting in the way."

_Oh, poor Wolf_, thought Hermione. She had no idea how hard he had fought against the curse. She felt horribly guilty for the fate of her friend.

Bellatrix stood up straight, head held high, glaring down at Hermione. She almost looked regal. Then she ruined the facade by spitting on Hermione's bleeding body.

"You messed up my plans, Mudblood. You made the Dark Lord get very angry with me. But now that you're here, that will change. I will take you to him, and you will explain."

Hermione took some comfort in the knowledge that she wouldn't be alive long enough to chat with Voldemort. Her system was slowing down. She was practically drowning in her own blood. She could even feel the static hovering around the corners of her mind, looking for a good time to invade. It was tempting to let it take over. She wouldn't feel a thing as she slipped into the beyond. Maybe it would even block out Draco's voice, still begging her not to leave. Under the pain from her injuries, she could feel her heart breaking.

"And while you're explaining that, maybe you can also tell him what your precious Order did with Narcissa's body. Oh, clever trick, I'll give you that, but my Lord had plans for her. He's been very angry lately. Very angry indeed. Let's not keep him waiting, shall we?"

The mention of Draco's mother caught Hermione's attention, and she pushed the static away. What did Bellatrix mean? The Order hadn't taken Narcissa's body. There's no way she would have missed information like that. The fact that they found Draco and Lucius at all was a complete coincidence.

Now that she was slightly more alert and fighting the encroaching darkness, Hermione could see something curious from her position on the floor. Just a small flutter of movement under the bench in the far corner. And then another flutter by the desk. Who else was in this room with them?

She heard Bellatrix humming happily as she fixed her hair in the old mirror on the wall.

Hermione looked back to where she saw the movement, and could make out stumpy little toes peeking out from behind the bench.

_House elves? What on earth?_

Her gaze drifted back to Bellatrix, who was finishing up her grooming. The woman turned back to Hermione, looking overjoyed and insane all at once. Her eyes were open just a little too widely as she broke out into a grin.

"It's me he wants, you know. It was always me. He just hasn't figured it out yet. You talk to him, you make him see that Wolf's stupidity wasn't my fault, and then he'll love me back."

Hermione wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the statement, but just then, the flurry of movement became a rush of bodies, and Bellatrix's shocked cry echoed through the room. Three house elves ran out from the shadows, two stunning Bellatrix as the third reached for Hermione.

"We gets you to safety, Miss," said a squeaky little voice as Hermione finally succumbed to unconsciousness. "We takes you to the Invisible Cottage. We takes good care of you. Miss doesn't have to worry anymore."


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Hee hee. This is fun. Another reeeeally early chapter because my sweetheart's alarm woke me up two hours early and I couldn't for the life of me get back to sleep. Picture me looking super impressed. Anyways... Two more chapters left! Now I just want to tell you... About your reviews... I won't deny the plausibility of a certain *ahem* plot twist, but the exact details have yet to be guessed. Muahaha. ChickenLeg wanted to know which chapter was my "hellish" one, and it was actually Chapter 16. Re-written four times! Don't tell me I don't love you. _

_Also? Static has officially out-reviewed The Boy in the Hammock. Ooooh, burn. Beat out by the new kid. That's what I call rising to the motherfucking challenge. You guys kick ass!_

_And I have some good news! Yesterday, I was drinking tea, minding my own business, when BAM! I got an idea for my next story. It's going to be all comedy all the time, and of course, Dramione. I'm sketching out the plot now, but I promise it'll be a fun one. Ahem. Now onto serious things. Serious, murderous things. No more giggling. Drum roll please. Enter: the Malfoys!_

_xo_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Lucius looked at his heartbroken son, sobbing into his hands as he clutched his wand. Lucius held his own wand aloft, finally reunited with it after so long. He'd dreamed of this moment for months, but what a bittersweet reunion it was. The wand appeared because Hermione was in grave danger, or perhaps worse. It was a terrible way to get one's magic back.<p>

Draco sobbed again, his whole body trembling.

Lucius remembered how his heart had torn itself to pieces when Narcissa was killed, and he made a decision. Nobody should have to sit by helplessly while their beloved dies. Besides, something occurred to him now that he remembered Hermione's magical connection to the house.

"Alright son, let's go get her."

Draco's sobs slowed until he was just gasping for breath.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"Let's go get her. I don't believe she's dead - I think the house would have reacted given that it's bonded to her by blood. Just a theory of course, but I doubt I'm wrong, given the reaction it had to being bonded with us. If she's not dead, that means she's seriously injured somewhere. So let's go get her." He stood up to give his statement an air of finality. His son needed a confident leader right now, and he could play the part well.

Draco stared at him, his face wet and red, his eyes rimmed and bloodshot.

"You're really serious," Draco said, astonished.

Lucius nodded.

"You honestly think she's alive?"

Lucius nodded again. He could tell his son was struggling with the idea of having hope when they may just find her corpse at the other end of their mission. He saw Draco cringe slightly, probably imagining just that, and then set his jaw into a familiar look of stubborn anger.

"Okay. Alright. Let's do this."

A proud smile took over Lucius's features, but it was quickly replaced with an apologetic gaze.

"I'm afraid I don't have much of a plan, son, but if the battle is taking place at the manor, we have the upper hand of knowing our grounds better than anyone else there."

"Right," said Draco, standing up and assuming a look of confident determination. It was easier to act than it was to mourn. "That's fine. We can improvise. We should disguise ourselves too. We're essentially a target of both sides, minus the few at Headquarters who know what's going on."

He pointed his wand at his father's face, a ghost of a smirk colouring his lips. Lucius was relieved to see his son was reacting well to his suggestion. It's amazing what a little hope can do. "How do you want to look, father?"

"Surprise me," Lucius said, dryly. He didn't really enjoy having a wand in his face, even if the person on the other end was his son.

He felt a cool rush of magic wash over him and gingerly touched his face.

"A beard?" Lucius said, and Draco nodded. His hands drifted up to his head. "Short hair?" he sneered.

"Are you surprised?" Draco said, still with the smallest smirk.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and pointed his wand at his son. With a flourish, Draco now had long, light brown hair and a short beard himself.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make some adjustments," said Lucius, letting his hair grow to its normal length. He noticed that Draco had changed the colour to jet black. "I don't mind the black or the beard, but I have no desire for short hair."

"Fair enough," said Draco, looking slightly calmer now that there was a possibility of finding Hermione. Lucius only prayed he wasn't giving him false expectations.

They both looked at the floo, wondering how to proceed.

"Father, now that the house is bonded to us, wouldn't it allow us to use it more freely? Couldn't we simply leave by the front door now and find a place to apparate?"

It certainly made sense, and Lucius nodded. "Let's try. It would be faster than messing around with the floo system. Goodness knows what Hermione did to it."

They walked to the front door, which had simply been for decoration until now. They'd never seen it used in the many months they'd lived there. Draco put his hand on the doorknob, wondering if some sort of ward would prevent him from leaving.

Nothing strange happened. The doorknob turned.

They let themselves out quietly and saw that they were on a picturesque residential street. Tall elm trees lined the road, and the air was perfumed with the scent of flowers.

"I've never seen the outside before," said Draco, looking back at the house.

"Me neither. Strange," said Lucius as they walked. Ducking behind several trees, they checked to make sure they were well hidden.

"Apparate to our usual spot, just south of the manor. We will have to improvise from there, son. We don't know what the situation will be."

Draco nodded, and with a CRACK, they were gone.

* * *

><p>The manor was a bloodbath, and both Malfoys stared at the sight in horror. The lawn was only green in places, the rest stained red by the victims of the battle. Troops on both sides continued to fight, but it was clear that the number of casualties were starting to affect those on the ground. People were slowing down.<p>

"Merlin," Lucius breathed. "This is not how I imagined seeing our ancestral home again." They both took off running. Seeing the severity of the battle made them both realize how Hermione must have gotten hurt. Anything could have happened to her out here. Rogue spells coloured the air.

"Walk with purpose, son. Shield yourself, but don't waste your time fighting if you can avoid it. Our mission here is to find Hermione, nothing else. Protect the Order members if you can do so discretely, but don't make it clear whose side you're on. If we draw too much attention to ourselves, we'll be recognized, and then we'll be fighting off everyone here."

Draco grunted his understanding. They weaved in between fighters, not making eye contact and keeping their heads down. It was surprisingly easy to move about. Other than having to throw up the occasional shield charm, nobody seemed interested in stopping them, too caught up in defending themselves from attack. It was hard to help the Order members without giving his position away, however, and Draco felt a twinge of guilt that he couldn't do more. Still, he was here for Hermione. To find her, he had to blend into the background.

After ten minutes, he was getting worried, shooting looks at his father when he was able to spot the man rushing in between fighters. After twenty minutes, he was nearing a panic attack.

His father jogged up beside him.

"Anything?" he asked.

Draco shook his head, fighting back tears. They searched for a while longer until they finally stopped in a sheltered area in between two bushes.

"Fuck," Draco croaked, panting. "_Bloody fucking hell_. If she's not on the field itself, where could she be? The manor is huge, father. She was coming to help the injured, wasn't she? I thought she would be here."

Lucius opened his mouth the respond, and was cut off by the gasp of someone's voice. Molly Weasley had recognized them and was running up, holding a shimmery bundle of fabric.

"Lucius, Draco, you are looking for Hermione, yes?" she said hurriedly.

They both nodded stiffly.

"Thank God. I didn't know who to tell... I was still recovering when I saw it happen. She helped so many people... She saved my life. Oh, I'm just blathering now," she said as she choked back a sob. "Look, she was wearing this to stay invisible," she said, holding up what seemed to be a cloak. "But the cloak came off when she took a fall and Bellatrix grabbed her. I don't know where they went. Merlin, I'm so worried!"

Lucius swore, and Draco felt his stomach clench. Whatever his aunt had done was the reason his wand had come back, he was sure of it. She could be dead after all.

She could be dead.

He swayed on his feet.

"Thank you Molly," said Lucius, probably more kindly than he'd ever spoken to a Weasley. "We'll look for her."

She nodded tearfully and then wrapped the clock around her, disappearing from sight. "It's easier to help the others when the Death Eaters don't know what's hit them," said her voice as it drifted away from them. Both Malfoys decided that Molly Weasley was not a useless shrew they had always imagined her to be.

"We need to get inside," hissed Lucius, grabbing Draco's arm and pulling him around the house to one of the side doors intended for servants. They would be locked to everyone here, but everyone wasn't a Malfoy. They slipped into the manor. "We have no time to waste, Draco. I'm sure you remember what Bella is like when she gets her hands on a captive."

The Malfoys started to run through the deserted house. It seemed that everyone was outside fighting, minus the Dark Lord, and it was anyone's guess where he was hiding. They checked the main hall, which was scorched black, the library, the main bedrooms, and had just begun making their way to the study when they heard it.

"Freeze, intruders!"

They turned around slowly.

Bellatrix stood in front of them with her wand held high. Her expression of crazed fury faltered when she recognized them.

"Lucius? Draco?" She cackled and lowered her wand, smirking at them.

"What ridiculous disguises," she sneered. "You look dreadful. Why bother to hide who you are? Even if you failed the Dark Lord, you could still be useful to him. Amazing you survived, really. Come to slaughter your rescuers, darlings? Couldn't stand to be left out of the action? Can't say I blame you." She took a cocky step towards them, and Draco tensed up angrily. Bellatrix stopped walking, eyeing his reaction her her. She looked puzzled.

Lucius put his hand on Draco's arm, and gave him a look. Draco clenched his jaw.

"Bella..." Lucius purred in a calm voice. "I'll ignore the fact that you happily stood by while we were tortured and your sister was murdered if you answer my question. Where's the girl?"

She didn't even flinch at the mention of Narcissa's murder. Her look of confusion disappeared and she scowled. "What, the Mudblood? You don't get to kill her, Lucius, she's mine. Or at least she was... I was about to take her to Godric's Hollow when the bitch got away. Her and her filthy little friends... Always causing me trouble. When I get my hands on them - "

"Her friends helped her get away? And what's at Godric's Hollow?" Lucius cut in, feeling extreme relief that Hermione had managed to escape. Might as well dig for information while he could.

"The Dark Lord, of course," sneered Bellatrix. "My my, you really are useless. The Mudblood has been my target for months, but unfortunately the imbecile I contracted to bring her to me was... Unable to complete the task. The fool was in love with her, and he had a stronger mind than I anticipated." She rolled her eyes for emphasis and Lucius could hear Draco growl under his breath. "No matter. She won't get far with her injuries. At very least, she'll die a horribly painful death, just as she deserves." Bellarix's scowl turned into a deranged smile.

"Injuries?" said Draco, breaking his silence. He was frozen with terror. Bellatrix was responsible for the monster that Wolf became, and now Hermione was near death somewhere. It was a nightmare. It was everything he feared.

"That handy spell you told me about, my dear nephew," she said, cheerfully. "The one Potter used on you? Oh my, what a mess! She left her dirty blood all over the study, wallowing in it like an animal... It was quite a sight." Bellatrix started to cackle, but stopped in mid-laugh, her final expression of madness frozen on her face. A green light lit up her pale skin. She fell backwards.

Draco's wand was out, and his hand was shaking, the words of the Killing Curse fresh on his lips. His aunt was dead by his hand, and the only thing he could think of was that he wished he could have dragged it out longer. Made her suffer. Made her scream in agony. Kill her over and over. It would never be enough. He wanted _more_.

He turned to his father, still shaking.

"I'm not sorry," he said, angrily.

"Neither am I," his father responded evenly. "Now the question is... Which friends helped Hermione escape? And where is she now?"

"Let's check the study," said Draco, already walking in the direction of the room. Lucius followed.

They were nearing the door and Draco shot his father a worried look.

"I smell blood already," he said, his voice wavering.

They opened the heavy oak door and both gasped at the sight. The large Persian carpet in the centre of the room was heavily stained with blood, the pooling liquid reaching out to make a messy circle where Hermione must have been. Draco dry heaved but kept it down as his vision blurred. He leaned back against the door frame and slid to the floor. He buried his head in his heads.

"God, father, I honestly don't know what to do. How could she survive that?"

Lucius didn't know what to say. It looked bad; very bad. It was clear why their wands appeared when they did.

"Okay, let's think about this," said Lucius, pinching the bridge of his nose. They couldn't afford to waste any time. "Bella said that her friends helped her escape. Who are her friends?"

"Everyone is her friend," Draco said, his voice muffled through his hands. "But Potter and Weasley are her best friends, obviously."

"Well, let's find them," said Lucius.

"They're off hunting the Dark Lord, father," Draco said, exasperated. "We don't have a chance in hell of finding them."

"We have to try, son," said Lucius, firmly. "I don't see any other option." He felt badly being harsh with Draco when he was so fragile, but until they were positive about her fate, they couldn't afford to stop looking.

Draco raised his head, and then stood up, brushing himself off.

"You're right, of course. I'm sorry father. I guess I'm just scared of what we'll find."

"I understand, of course," Lucius said. "But let's not give up yet."

They ran back through the manor's empty halls, finally reaching a side door that emptied out into a small garden. They tore through, searching for anyone who might be able to help.

What they saw surprised them. The Death Eaters and other Dark fighters had disappeared, and the remaining members of the Order were tending to their injured. Draco could see Rose running between bodies, frantically trying to help. Someone with red hair was following her, handing her supplies.

"Oi, Weasley!" Draco shouted and ran over as quickly as he could. Ron looked up, stunned to see a bearded, brown-locked Draco Malfoy sprinting towards him.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" he asked suspiciously. A dark-haired Lucius was walking up behind his son.

"Looking for Hermione. Our wands came to us, so we know she's injured. Have you seen her?" Draco said, panting.

"Injured? She's supposed to be with you! In the house! Safe!" Ron responded, his voice rising in pitch. Suddenly Harry ran up beside him, looking between the three men with alarm.

"Yeah, well she caught onto your little plan and freaked out, Weasley. She hacked the floo to check Headquarters and then left us to go help," Draco snapped. "Not telling her? Seriously? You morons should have known that - "

"We did know," Harry cut in, angrily. "Or we suspected, at least. We left the Invisibility Cloak at Headquarters in case she still managed to get through... To protect her. She was supposed to be wearing it - "

"She was," said Molly, joining the group with the cloak on her arm. "It fell off her and then Bellatrix took her."

"Bellatrix? For fuck's sakes, she was never supposed to come!" shouted Ron. "She should never have come here!"

"She saved my life, Ronald," said Molly, narrowing her eyes. "She had something to offer, and she wanted the opportunity to help."

"Saved mine too," yelled Tonks from nearby as she helped bandage someone's arm. "I'd be dead right now if she hadn't sewn me up. No doubt about it."

"Me too," said Nevile, jogging over. "I'd almost completely bled out when she found me. She saved a lot of people here. You know how good she is at this stuff."

Ron's mouth snapped shut and both he and Harry looked guiltily at the ground. "We were just trying to protect her," said Harry. "That's all we were trying to do. But now she's in danger. What exactly happened?"

"Bellatrix used _Sectumsempra_ on her," said Draco, and saw Harry wince. "Wanted to take her to the Dark Lord for some reason, but said Hermione's friends helped her escape. We were hoping it was one of you so we could find out where she was."

"If it was anyone here, she'd be here too," said Harry, looking around. "It's easier to see who's left now that the other side is gone. He called them away, you know. Trying to regroup. He and I fought in the main hall, but then he disappeared and Ron and I have been trying to find him for hours. Bloody coward. I haven't the faintest idea where the snake went."

"Godric's Hollow," said Draco, suddenly. "Bellatrix said the Dark Lord was in Godric's Hollow."

The was a heavy silence while Harry and Ron stared at him.

"Seriously?" said Ron, cautiously. "You're not lying?"

"For Merlin's sake you daft sod, I am on your goddamn side. Reluctantly, but very much there!" growled Draco.

Ron turned to Harry. They shared a look.

"Okay, if that's the case, Ron, myself, Lupin and Tonks will go. We can't find Mad-Eye. Let's try to finish this," said Harry. "Malfoy... About Hermione... If she really was rescued by friends, they are probably trying to heal her somewhere. I honestly don't know who took her, but I think the only thing we can do is wait for someone to offer up information."

"Unless we could somehow persuade Bellatrix to tell us more?" said Ron, angry hope glinting in his eye. Everyone could tell he wanted to torture the woman, and nobody really blamed him.

"She's dead," said Draco, not wanting to explain further. He felt stupid for killing her before searching her mind, truthfully. He hadn't thought of it at the time... Too distraught and angry to do anything but slaughter the woman.

"Well, thank Merlin for that, at any rate," said Ron with a shrug. "She was a fucking nightmare. I suppose Harry's right, Malfoy. If she was taken by friends, eventually somebody will hear something." He turned to Harry, determination on his face. "Okay, let's get ourselves to Godric's Hollow, Harry. This has to end. He's running scared. We can do this."

Harry nodded, but didn't take his eyes off Draco. "She's a survivor, Malfoy," he said, gently. "She's a fighter. Go back to the house - someone here can take you there through Headquarters. If Ron and I make it out of this fight, we'll find you there."

"We can go directly," said Draco, coldly. He didn't want the Chosen One's pity. He wanted Hermione back. "We'll see you there afterwards. Good luck," he added. Despite everything, he really did hope that Harry would kill the bastard who had caused so much misery.

"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said, and then took off with Ron, Tonks and Lupin following close behind.

Draco heard his father sigh behind him. "Shall we head back, Draco? As much as I hate to say it, Mr. Potter is probably right. If she was taken by friends, they are likely trying to help her right now. The house is the first place she will look for us."

Draco nodded stiffly, and started to walk away from the crowd. He didn't want to be around these people anymore, and there was nothing he could do for them, anyway. It was all well and good that the Wonder Duo felt optimistic, but they hadn't seen the blood. He knew the sight of that carpet would haunt him until he found her.

"Do you suppose we're going to be able to apparate? I don't really know how the house reacts to people materializing out of thin air," said Draco, sounding drained and angry.

"Let's just trust that Hermione set it up in a friendly manner," said Lucius, sounding equally as exhausted. "Just think of the house and see where we end up."

It was a slight gamble, but Draco was beyond caring. He didn't even acknowledge that he heard his father's words, he just closed his eyes and disappeared.

A second later, they both reappeared with a POP in the backyard. Of course Hermione had arranged it like this. She was bloody brilliant. Draco let his guard down and felt his shoulders drop. His father waved his wand and their appearances went back to normal.

"Back to the waiting game, I suppose," Draco said, his voice scratchy. He walked inside, curled up on the couch, and thought of Hermione's face smiling down on him. His chest ached.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Lucius and Draco gasped at the same time, clutching the arms that held their Dark Marks. Burning pain coursed around the brand and they writhed in their seats. Moments later, the pain stopped.<p>

"You don't think..." said Draco, panting.

"I do," said Lucius, looking in awe at his Mark. "I think your mother has been avenged."

Draco inspected his arm and noticed with a start that the Mark was already starting to fade, hissing painfully against his skin.

"I wish Hermione could see this," he whispered, watching history being made on his arm.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Harry and Ron came through the floo. Draco didn't think it was possible for two people to look so elated and also so miserable at the same time.<p>

Lucius stood up to greet them and shook their hands, thanking them warmly for completing a mission that was practically a death sentence. Draco followed his father's lead. He may be heartbroken, but he was also genuinely thankful that the Wonder Duo had been successful. He was surprised when they credited him largely for the accomplishment... Harry said Voldemort was just about to move locations again when they found him, and without Draco's tip, he would probably still be alive.

"So... Still nothing on her whereabouts?" said Harry nervously, after the formalities were finished. Both Malfoys shook their heads solemnly.

"Fuck," said Ron.

They all shared a pot of tea in silence, the joy of their victory dulled under the weight of Hermione's disappearance.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

_Hello darlings. Okay, you're starting to pick up my clues now... And I shouldn't really say nobody guessed it. Peppermintbark figured out our "hero" way back in Chapter 15! On that note, I have some surprises for you. _

_1. The final two chapters of the story, right here, right now. I stayed up late to finish so I could give you both, and I'm so happy I made it. Yay deadlines!_

_2. The official end of the angst (minus a little bit of heart-wrenching, old-fashioned sad)._

_3. Smut (smut lite, let's be frank)._

_4. Happy ending (pun intended)._

_Despite having studied something writing-related at school, and working a job where I write nearly all day, I've never really considered myself to be much of a writer. I just never thought I was all that great at it. Thank you for slowly making me reconsider how I see myself. I appreciate every single one of your reviews, your favourites, your alerts, your artsy things, your messages... And maybe I'll see you around whenever I write my next story (wherein I attempt to bring the lolz, ahem). _

_Love,_

_Galfoy_

* * *

><p>Hermione blinked herself out of a deep sleep. After a moment of peaceful calm, she realized that she had no idea where she was. The peaceful calm left her quickly, replaced by a feeling of unease.<p>

Despite her somewhat fuzzy vision, she could make out a pale pink wall and an antique dresser to her right. Looking down, she saw that her body was covered in a floral blanket and she was tucked into a very comfortable bed. But her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and everything ached. It was a reminder of what she had survived.

_I survived?_

A groan escaped her lips. Where in Merlin's name was she? Wasn't she supposed to have died? The last thing she remembered was...

"Miss is awake!" squeaked a voice, causing Hermione to jump and yelp with fright.

"Oh, sorry miss," whispered the voice. "Sunny was excited. Sunny will be quiet now."

Hermione looked around and finally spotted a small house elf who had been hovering just outside her line of vision. She willed her mouth to work.

"Where am I?" she croaked.

"Miss has questions!" squeaked the happy elf. "Sunny was told miss would have questions. Sunny will get you answers." With an abrupt POP, Sunny was gone.

Hermione frowned. As far as she could tell, she had nearly been killed by Bellatrix in the middle of the final battle, somehow rescued by house elves, and brought to a mysterious yet comfortable bedroom. Thinking of Bellatrix reminded her, and she scrambled to check her wounds. She frowned again. They had all been healed; only thin pink scars marked where they had been. Her blood-soaked clothes were gone and now she was in soft cotton pyjamas.

"What the hell..." she mumbled, fighting the dizzyness in her head. Another POP caused her to yelp again, her nerves set on edge. This time, a wizened old house elf looked at her. He was incredibly wrinkly, but wore a clean white pillow case, and had a sage expression on his face.

"Welcome, Miss Granger," said the elf. Hermione felt a pang of melancholy for Lucius. He always used to call her that, the stubborn man.

"Hello," she said, not wanting to sound ungrateful. After all, for whatever reason, it would seem the elves had saved her life. "It's Hermione, please. What's your name?"

"My name is Mirtu, Miss," said the elf, bowing his head at her. "Mirtu thinks Miss is wondering where she is."

Hermione nodded. Finally, some answers.

"Miss is in the Invisible Cottage. Miss will be safe here until Miss feels better."

"Okay... But - "

"When Miss is stronger, there is tea downstairs, and all her questions will be answered," said the elf. Hermione frowned for the third time in as many minutes. Why was everyone being so vague? She needed to know what was going on. She needed to heal and she needed to get back to the battle. People were counting on her.

"Fine," she said, sitting upright with some difficulty and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The old elf looked at her in alarm. "Let's go." She stood up stiffly and waited for the elf to lead the way. If she had to go downstairs to get answers, then that's where she was headed.

Mirtu shook his head and started to walk her out of the room. "Mirtu was warned that Miss was headstrong... " he mumbled under his breath. She scowled. Apparently her reputation had preceded her. Hermione leaned heavily against the walls of the hallway as she forced her legs to move. When the elf noticed her struggles, he took pity on her and levitated her down the winding staircase, much to her relief. She managed to put one foot in front of the other once she reached the main level.

"Thank you, Mirtu," Hermione said as she followed the elf through the small but cheerful cottage. "Where are you taking me?"

"Mirtu is taking Miss Hermione to his Mistress," said Mirtu.

"Who is your Mistress?" asked Hermione, fighting the dizziness again. This was getting stranger and stranger. She hadn't seen a house elf in years until she bumped into Dobby at Headquarters, and now she owed her life to several of them. This didn't have anything to do with Dobby... Did it?

She rounded the corner and walked into a cozy living room. In the centre of the room were two sofas, a coffee table set out with tea, and a woman whose face was turned away from Hermione.

Hermione froze. The woman had white-blonde hair and a regal stature, even though her face was hidden. Everything about her was familiar.

_Not. Possible_.

Upon hearing Hermione enter, the woman turned around.

"Hello Miss Granger. I'm so glad you're awake. We have much to discuss," said Narcissa Malfoy with a gentle smile.

The dizziness that had plagued Hermione since she woke up took over and she collapsed on the ground.

* * *

><p>"Mirtu, she shouldn't be down here if she's still unwell!" said a panicked female voice.<p>

"Mirtu suspects the young Miss is simply surprised, Mistress," said the elf. "She has been healing quickly. Mirtu will get her some water."

Hermione could hear the thumping of little elf feet as Mirtu hopped over to the kitchen. She cracked open her eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy was gazing down at her, brow furrowed with worry. She exhaled when she saw that Hermione was awake and moved Hermione's hair out of her eyes. The gesture reminded Hermione so much of Draco that her heart clenched. She couldn't process the emotions that were running through her, and found it was easier to burst into tears than to make sense of things.

"You're alive!" she sobbed at the startled woman. "I'm sorry, I know we don't actually know each other, but Lucius and Draco have missed you so much..."

"So it's true?" Narcissa said, her eyes filling with tears as well. "They're both alive? I thought they had been killed... I've been mourning them for so long..."

Hermione nodded and sat up, hiccupping and wiping her eyes. "The Order found them in one of the hideouts. It was a fluke, I think. I treated them and they came to stay with me to keep hidden. It wasn't widely known... Only the main group at Headquarters knew. But... I don't understand... Draco said he saw you die!"

Narcissa nodded sadly. "In a way, he did. Why don't you come sit on the couch? I can explain everything."

The elegant woman took Hermione's hand and pulled her to her feet, helping her over to the couch as Hermione fought back new waves of dizziness. Once they were both seated, Hermione gratefully accepted the hot cup of tea that was pushed into her hands by Sunny. Mirtu put down a glass of water on the coffee table and looked at her pointedly. She took a long sip from that as well, not wanting to offend the ancient elf.

"The spell that the Dark Lord cast on me was a dummy curse," Narcissa said, the strain showing on her face. "It looks like the Killing Curse. It glows with a green light, and it sends the victim into a deep sleep. But it does not kill. It's one of his own making. That's what Draco and Lucius saw."

"What?" said Hermione, confused. "Why would he use a dummy curse on you? He doesn't seem like the type to spare people."

Narcissa sighed. "Miss Granger - "

"Hermione, please."

"Alright, Hermione. Then please call me Narcissa. The real reason the Dark Lord began to cut my family out of his circle is because... Is because he was angry that I rejected his advances."

Hermione's eyes widened and her cup of tea stopped halfway to her mouth.

"I'm sorry?"

Narcissa sighed anxiously, her hands fidgeting. It was clear that the issue was still hard for her to discuss. "The Dark Lord had made a habit of approaching female Death Eaters whenever he took an interest in them. Nobody denied him, of course. But when he started being suggestive to me, very veiled at first and very bold by the end, I couldn't imagine betraying Lucius for that twisted man. My views started to change, and with every advance, I pushed back harder. I honestly just hoped he would grow bored of trying and move on to someone more willing. God knows my sister threw herself at him constantly. But it bothered him that I was resisting, and he began to punish my husband and my son for my unwillingness to please him. I was too afraid to tell Lucius what was really going on... I was still hoping the Dark Lord would tire of me. But no... We started to get shut out of the inner group. It was a slow process, because Lucius was valuable to him, but in the end his anger won out. He took the first excuse he could to separate me from my family - by killing them, or so I thought."

"Then why bother to fake your death? Why make Draco and Lucius think you had died at all?"

"Because it would torture them even more," she said, shaking her head sadly. "I'm afraid that's reason enough for him. He knew it would take them a while to die, and he wanted it to be as painful as possible. In turn, he would get me to himself and I would pay with my family for disobeying him." Narcissa wiped a tear off her cheek and stared into her tea.

Hermione turned everything over in her mind.

"But... How did you escape?" she said, looking at Narcissa. "You were in the middle of a group full of Death Eaters, weren't you? In front of You-Know-Who? How could you get out of that when you were unconscious?"

Narcissa looked fondly over Hermione's shoulder. Hermione followed her gaze and saw Mirtu, the wizened elf, smiling at his Mistress.

"Mirtu has served and protected me for nearly my whole life," said Narcissa. "I had confided my fears to him, and when I fell under the spell, he grabbed me and whisked me away in the commotion. An elf's magic is quite different than that of a witch or wizard... The Death Eaters were not able to trace where I had gone, and having only seen the green light from the spell, assumed I was dead. The Dark Lord didn't bother to correct their assumptions, probably being too angry that I got away in the first place. Mirtu brought me here - the Invisible Cottage - because the building is heavily camouflaged and belongs to the Black family. It hadn't been used for decades. Quite honestly, I had forgotten about it, but Mirtu had kept it in top shape over the years. He healed me slowly, since the spell is not a common one... It took me a couple of months to get back to normal. I am extremely grateful to him." She smiled at the elf again and Hermione saw Mirtu blush happily at the praise.

"We are completely cut off here though, and since I was technically a Death Eater despite my change of heart, I felt I couldn't reach out for help. As far as I knew, my husband and my son had been murdered, and I was to blame. We only got snippets of news from other house elves, but so little came to us, even then. It has been a very difficult time..." She trailed off, overcome with emotion. "It wasn't until you spoke to Dobby and he immediately sought out Mirtu that we knew the truth. I couldn't believe my ears, but Dobby spoke so highly of your character, and then he said you were going to fight... Mirtu and I had the elves at the manor keep an eye on you during the battle to make sure you were kept safe. We needed to find out the truth about Draco and Lucius, you understand. The elves brought you here after what Bella did to you."

A scowl took over Narcissa's beautiful face, and for a fraction of a second, Hermione could see why she had been feared by so many. Narcissa obviously had a temper. "Bella," she growled. "That foul woman - she fully supported the Dark Lord's plan to kill Lucius and Draco. She has always been jealous of me, I'm sad to say. First over my marriage to Lucius, and then when she saw the Dark Lord's fixation with me... I'm afraid it pushed her even further over the edge. She's not the sister I knew. She is a danger to everyone around her. She thought me to be dead too... As I understand it, she wanted to believe that the Dark Lord was finally ready to return her affections. Delusional witch."

Hermione found herself shaking her head in astonishment. "Incredible," she said. "I should tell you though... Lucius and Draco had a long recovery as well. Lucius lost a leg, and Draco nearly died from You-Know-Who's curse... But Lucius can walk properly now and Draco is all healed. They are doing so well, Narcissa. I can't wait for them to see you."

"He lost a leg?" she gasped. "How terrible for him! Is he managing?"

"He's managing extremely well," Hermione said, a feeling of elation taking over her. "You'll be very proud of him."

Narcissa smiled at her, and her expression turned to one of curiosity. "Forgive my prying, Miss Granger - "

"Hermione, please."

"Apologies. Old habits die hard. Forgive my prying, Hermione, but I can't help but notice how fondly you speak of my husband and son. Although I love them both very much, I know that you are a Muggle-born, and I can't help but wonder how you all survived under one roof together for so long. They are a little... Set in their ways."

Hermione smiled nervously. She really didn't want a repeat of Lucius's tantrum, but she didn't want to hide the truth either. She had come too far for that.

"We were not very friendly with each other at first, I won't lie," she said, cautiously. "Draco especially. But we were all isolated in the house together, so we slowly developed ways of coping. Draco eventually stopped caring about my blood... Lucius took a while longer..." She looked up at Narcissa and was pleased to see that the woman was still smiling, and seemed genuinely interested in what Hermione was saying. _Oh well, might as well go in for the kill_. "Despite the odds, we all ended up being very close. Lucius became a good friend to me, and, uh, Draco and I... Well... We fell in love."

Narcissa choked on her tea and began coughing uncontrollably.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... I didn't know how to tell you..." said Hermione, cringing and removing the cup from the woman's hands before the rest of her drink ended up on the floor. Mirtu ran over to his Mistress and glared at Hermione. She turned red with embarrassment.

"No no, it's quite alright," gasped Narcissa. "Please don't misunderstand. I have no issue with your blood. After everything that happened, I had to drastically reevaluate my beliefs. I'm just surprised because Draco was never very... Close with women. I had honestly given up on him finding someone. You really... You really love each other?"

"Very much," said Hermione, relieved to hear her blood wasn't an issue for the mother of her beloved. "And in fact, I need to get back to the battle so I can help those fighting. I had to leave Draco at the house and the sooner the fight is over, the sooner I can get home to him."

"My dear, the battle _is_ over. It has been for several hours," said Narcissa, a smile creeping onto her face.

Fear took over Hermione's heart. "And... The outcome?" she asked anxiously.

Narcissa answered by pulling up her sleeve. A faded Dark Mark lay there, fading even further as Hermione stared at it. "You can use his name now, dear. There is no more taboo, because there is no more Voldemort."

There was a moment of silence, and then Hermione screamed. "You're serious? You're serious! Narcissa, we have to go! What are we waiting for?"

Narcissa laughed. "We were just waiting for you to wake up, dear girl. You nearly died of blood loss. It wouldn't have done to force you awake any earlier. Your body needed to recover! But I agree, of course. There is nothing I want more than to see my husband and my son again."

Both women stood and Narcissa offered Hermione her arm, knowing that Hermione's legs were still fairly shaky. Hermione took it with a shy smile. She couldn't believe this was happening, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Oh, my wand!" Hermione said, looking around. Mirtu appeared before her and handed her the familiar piece of wood. Mirtu snapped his fingers smartly and with a gasp, Hermione found herself dressed in her normal clothes again. "Thank you, Mirtu, for everything," Hermione said, smiling at the elf. "And thanks to you too, Sunny!" she called to the shy little elf hiding in the corner. Sunny blushed.

Hermione started to get her thoughts in order, and realized a flaw in her plans. She shot a worried look at Narcissa. "I'm... I'm not actually sure that I'm strong enough to apparate us both there, or even myself, honestly..." she said. "But the house is heavily protected, and I'm the only one who can get us to the building."

"Perhaps Sunny and Mirtu could bring us both nearby and we can walk over?" offered Narcissa.

"Yes, that will work!" Hermione responded with a smile. No witch or wizard would be able to apparate within ten blocks of the house, but a house elf should be able to get closer. They did have the most interesting magic. Maybe she could ask them about it when this was all over. She told the elves the intersection she had in mind, and smiled as Sunny took her hand.

With one last look at Narcissa, who was smiling anxiously at her, they left the quiet cottage with a loud CRACK.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

* * *

><p>Ron growled as Hermione's fireplace lit up again with a floo call. It was the seventh time in the past hour the strange foursome had been pulled out of their melancholy to accept the joyful congratulations of the magical world. The news of Voldemort's fall had spread like fiendfire.<p>

"Harry, maybe we'd best get back the Headquarters," he said, defeated. "Everyone in the wizarding world wants to talk to you, and there's a chance someone's picked up information about 'Mione over there."

Harry sighed, fidgeting with his cold cup of tea. "You're probably right. Draco, Lucius, we'll keep in touch... And we'll let you know the second we hear anything, okay? And vice-versa?"

Both Malfoys nodded. Draco decided that he liked the fact that Harry had started using his first name. It reminded him less of Hermione that way. Thinking about her made his heart twinge, and it was a chore for him to breathe calmly as it was. For most of the day, he'd been struggling to keep his mind blank. He'd made it to a record of three seconds before that blood-soaked carpet floated in front of his field of vision. He was hoping to make it to four, if only for the sake of his mental health.

Worst of all, he didn't even know who to blame in all this. Harry and Ron for keeping it from her? His father for agreeing not to tell her? Himself for trying to stop her in the first place, or for not trying to stop her fast enough? Mad-Eye Moody for hiding their wands? Aunt Bella for being a violent, sadistic psychopath? The Dark Lord for simply existing?

Hermione? No, he couldn't blame her. She reacted exactly the way he should have expected. If anything, she was remarkably consistent. He probably could have guessed her reaction even back at Hogwarts, having only a superficial knowledge of her personality then. Helping others was an integral part of her nature. Throw in an impressive recovery and a final battle... And well... There was never any question she would go to help, as much as he hated to admit it. Even if it meant leaving him behind. Besides, it seemed that she had managed to keep quite safe before her run-in with Bellatrix, and she had certainly saved more lives than Draco could count. She did exactly what she set out to do, right up until she got hurt.

Draco sipped his cold tea just to keep himself busy. If it still had any flavour, he couldn't tell. Everything tasted like sawdust.

That bloody carpet floated into his head again. _Fucking hell_.

He never thought it would be such a problem for Hermione to have so many people that cared about her, but now he found himself wishing that her friend circle was significantly smaller. _Anyone_ could have rescued her. There were hundreds of people fighting for the Light during the final battle, nearly all of whom knew Hermione or knew _of_ Hermione. While he was endlessly grateful to whomever had snatched her away from Bellatrix, it was killing him that she was still missing. With so much blood loss, her rescuers would have to be extremely well-versed in healing techniques to keep her alive. That knowledge was fucking with his brain. He needed her to be okay. He needed her to come back. Anything else would destroy him.

The bloody carpet slid into his mind, mocking his helplessness. Draco groaned and sipped his tea again, grimacing as the cold liquid slithered down his throat. He looked up at his father who was sitting perfectly still, staring off into nothingness. Noticing his son's gaze, Lucius looked over and caught Draco's eye.

"How are you holding up, son?" said Lucius.

Draco shrugged. "I feel like my life is falling apart," he said, matter-of-factly. "You?"

Lucius nodded. "Same," he said. His voice was scratchy and worn.

Draco let out a heavy sigh. They were both feeling incredibly stripped down. The remaining Malfoys had maybe, possibly lost the only two women who ever meant anything to them. His mother and Hermione. Merlin knew that Malfoy men tended not to get attached easily. When they fell, they fell hard, and forever, apparently.

He prodded his tea cup with his index finger. "Guess I'll make a fresh pot of tea. I'm going to blow up this fucking table if I have to drink any more of this cold shite."

He had barely finished talking when he heard the distinct and somewhat alien sound of the doorknob turning. Both men whipped around. Indeed, the metal globe was rotating as they watched, gaping at the sight, as though at was happening in slow motion.

"You don't think..." Draco breathed, scared out of his wits to get his hopes up, but not being able to keep his heart from racing. He heard his father swallow heavily.

"I don't know," Lucius whispered. "But it could be."

The door swung open and Draco let out a cry. Hermione stood there, looking perfectly lovely... Not a gash in sight. No blood. Her hair was curling wildly around her face as it always did, and she was smiling so widely Draco thought his heart would burst. Both men jumped to their feet and made to run towards her.

"Wait wait!" she said, holding up her hands. They both froze, wondering why on earth they should stay away.

"I've brought you someone," she said, her smile more nervous now. She turned slightly and beconed to whomever was beyond their line of vision.

"Lucius? Draco?" said a voice that both men knew intrinsically. Draco heard his father gasp.

The next moments were a blur.

Narcissa walked in. She was solid, beautiful, vibrant... And looked nothing like a ghost.

"'Cissa...?" cried Lucius before running forward and crushing the woman into his arms. "I don't understand... I don't understand..." he repeated.

"Mirtu saved me. I can explain the details later," she said, tears rushing down her cheeks. "Draco! Come here, love," she said, opening an arm to her son, the other wrapped tightly around her husband. Draco had been frozen to the spot since she walked in, staring incomprehensibly at the woman he believed to be dead. He stumbled over and let himself be wrapped up in her arms.

"Mother?" he choked. "Is it really you? I don't - "

"Shh, it's me. Details later. I just want to enjoy this for a quick moment... I thought you were both dead until earlier today. I think you've been in a similar position, if I'm not mistaken."

Draco let himself be held, but after several emotional seconds, Draco pulled away with an apologetic kiss on his mother's cheek. He could digest this later. There was someone else he had to greet; someone else he thought might have been dead until she walked through the door. He rushed over to Hermione, who had been crying happily as she watched the reunion.

"I think you might be some sort of fucking angel," he said, silencing her attempted response with a bruising kiss as he pulled her into his arms. She melted into him and Draco felt like he'd been given a second chance at something. Or maybe a fifth chance. Merlin knew he fucked things up regularly enough. "Seriously Granger, don't lie to me... Are you? Because my life has gone goddamn pear since you came back into it, and I mean that in the best possible way."

"As far as I know, I'm not an angel," she said, putting on her best serious face. "I think a little team of house elves deserve that distinction. You're not going to believe what happened to both of us."

Draco looked over her shoulder to see Mirtu and Sunny, two elves he remembered very well from the manor, hovering by the door. Sunny was smiling gleefully. Mirtu was frowning, but then, Mirtu was always frowning. If these elves, or any others, for that matter, were truly the ones responsible for this miracle, Draco decided he would build them a mansion of their own.

"Draco," said Narcissa, still clinging happily to Lucius. "Your beloved and I can tell you all the details over tea. Would you mind?"

Draco's eyebrows reached his hairline to hear his mother's description of Hermione, and he stuttered some sort of affirmative response. He and Hermione walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen to put on the kettle, and he stole several glances at her to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He couldn't believe she was standing next to him. And that she walked in here with his mother. _His mother_. It was blowing his mind. He had so much to tell them both! That thought reminded him, and he scrambled to pull up his sleeve.

"Hermione, look!" he said in an giddy whisper as he lifted his arm to show her the fading Mark.

She nodded excitedly, touching the skin gently as she marvelled at the sight. "It's so interesting, isn't it? The magic of the Dark Mark? Would you let me study it? I could run some little experiments on it over the next few months... I was thinking that we could set up a little lab here..." Hermione continued to chatter happily about her plans, but he'd stopped listening after she said "the next few months."

She really wanted him to stay. It was no joke. She wanted him in her life. Part of him had been worried that once the final battle was over, once she wasn't obligated to keep him and his father in her house, she'd realize that she could have anyone she wanted. She could have a Healer, or a warrior, a proper hero, either of the Wonder Duo, or even the fucking Minister for Magic. But here she was, talking about what they were going to do in the future. Together. She didn't seem to consider the alternative for a second.

Yet again, as had happened so many times over the past few months, Draco didn't recognize his life.

"Draco! Are you listening to me?" she said, grinning cheekily.

"Uh, yes," he lied. "Dark Mark. Experiments."

"I finished talking about that a while ago," she said, looking at him pointedly. "What I said just now was..." she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I don't want to wait anymore."

He sucked in a breath and stared at her. Was she talking about what he hoped she was talking about? "Really? Are you sure?"

"Positive," she whispered. The kettle started to whistle and she turned away from him to prepare the tea. "You're still staying here, right?" she said, dropping the tea bags into the pot. To his surprise, she looked a bit nervous, not meeting his eyes. "You don't have to leave. In fact, I'd rather you didn't. The manor is a mess and it will take months to make it fit for habita - "

"Hermione," he said, grabbing her shoulders and gently turning her to face him. "I'm not going anywhere as long as you want me here."

"Oh good," she said, smiling anxiously. "So you're never leaving. I'm glad that's sorted."

Turning on her heel, she walked off quickly holding the tea tray, and he stood open mouthed as she sat down at the table with his parents. His father looked happier than he had ever seen him, if not completely shell-shocked, his mother looked radiant, and Hermione... Well... Hermione had just dealt the final blow to his emotional cowardice. He was staying. This was his home now. Maybe, underneath it all, there had never really been any doubt. Since that first night terror, part of him knew, didn't it? What a mysterious sort of magic.

As he sat down with her and listened to his mother explain her miraculous survival, something occurred to him.

Hermione Granger, the same witty chatterbox, courageous Gryffindor and swotty know-it-all had returned. She'd changed since their school days, mellowed and matured, but they all had. Growing up in the face of war, having to make choices that nobody should ever have to make, especially people so young. But looking at her now, fully in her right mind, dynamic and passionate, he realized that despite her scars, she had made her way back.

* * *

><p>Her reception at Headquarters was explosive. The Wonder Duo screamed when she walked through the floo, rattling the nerves of the few remaining Order members, and Ron was so surprised he reverted to his clumsy teenage self and accidentally set the table on fire.<p>

Draco left them in the kitchen to catch up. She had already offered to explain Narcissa's mind-boggling return to their lives, and he had left his parents alone at the house to do Merlin-knows what. He promised Hermione he would give her fifteen minutes of chatting time with Harry and Ron, and then he was taking her back home. To bed. Where he planned to please her so thoroughly that she'd never consider leaving him to play hero again.

He wandered the halls of 12 Grimmauld Place, marvelling at how different it seemed to him now. When he first came here, angry and hateful, he'd truly wished death on all the inhabitants of the old house. The memory disturbed him a bit. He was quite comfortable with the knowledge that he was not a _nice_ person. His snark was more genuine than forced politeness and he wasn't interested in pleasing anyone other than his family, Hermione now included. But he'd let go of a lot of the hate that had been fueling him for so long. He felt lighter. The change hadn't really been terribly apparent until this moment, looking at the sitting room where Hermione had started his treatments. Where he had snarled about her "filthy hands." Where he had still called himself a Death Eater. It felt like years ago. A million books ago. A thousand chess games ago. Merlin could guess how many cups of tea.

His feet led him from room to room, most of which were deserted now that everyone was able to return home without fear of being murdered as they slept. Eventually he reached the small room that had served as the library, potions lab and medical storage area. He pushed open the door and strolled in.

Draco froze, fingers hovering over his wand.

Wolf glanced up from a book he had been flipping through, sitting in a ratty reading chair that had been pushed into a dusty corner at some point over the past several decades. The hand that had been turning the pages hung there limply as his attention shifted.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, his face blank. "I should thank you."

"Excuse me?" Draco hissed.

Wolf closed the book and set it down.

"I owe you thanks. For killing Bellatrix. For releasing me from the spell, even if you didn't mean to."

Draco focused on his breathing. He was imagining a variety of ways he could murder Wolf without alerting everyone downstairs. Eventually they'd remember that Wolf was up here and they'd come running. He'd have to move quickly.

"Go ahead," said Wolf, looking resigned. "Go ahead and do it."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Do what?" he growled, wondering if Wolf had somehow read his thoughts.

"Kill me," he replied, solemnly.

The surprise was evident on Draco's face, and Wolf gave him a knowing look.

"I can't live with myself anyways," he said, his face showing strain and sadness now. "After what I did. I was fighting as hard as I could, but I should have fought even harder. I love her, you know. You probably figured that out quickly. We can always spot competition, hey? I love her, and I still hurt her."

Wolf broke eye contact and gazed out the little window, the dying light of the day still barely filtering in. "She'll never trust me again. Actually, she'll probably never be in the same room as me again. My memories are haunting me. Torturing me. I haven't even been free of the spell for a day and I'm already being driven mad by what I did. I hurt Hermione so badly... And I killed Bryce. He wasn't just an employee - he was a friend too. I dragged him into this, and now he's gone." He met Draco's eyes, hopelessness emanating out of him. "Don't you see? This isn't a life worth living. So go ahead. Kill me. You'd be doing me a favour, and I know you want to. It's written all over your face. A win-win situation, if you will."

Wolf stood up, and Draco tensed, his fingers resting on the hilt of his wand. He was conflicted now, and watched in awe as Wolf spread his arms open as if he was offering himself to the Gods.

"Better do it now," he said. "They've forgotton that they let me walk freely through the house. They'll remember soon. They'll realize where you are." He closed his eyes and waited.

A cacaphony of voices argued in Draco's mind, and he struggled to decide which path to take. He desperately wanted to let his anger out the way he had with Bellatrix, but he knew it wasn't the same. Bella was the monster here. Wolf, although Draco despised him, was one of her many victims. And of all the voices that argued for justice, Hermione's rang out the strongest. She wanted a different kind of justice. It was her voice that reminded him that Wolf was already suffering, that he had actually saved her from a terrible fate despite being under Bella's influence. She would have been given to the Dark Lord if Wolf hadn't interfered.

Her voice silenced all the others.

His anger backed down enough for him to speak. Draco cleared his throat.

"I wouldn't be so quick to assume you know what Hermione's reaction to you will be," he said, removing his hand from the wood of his wand. "She's staggeringly forgiving. She did give me a chance, after all."

He saw the look of surprise on Wolf's face as the man opened his eyes.

"I love her," said Draco, without an ounce of humour. "She loves me, and we're both going to live at the house now. Permanently. She won't be coming to work for you again. But I'm not going to kill you, and I think it would be a poor use of time torturing yourself over what Bellatrix made you do. She's gone now. You can take your life back. Don't waste it."

He turned and walked out of the room in long, focused strides in case he changed his mind. He had to get out of there quickly. The voices in his head were leering that he'd gone soft. He needed distance from that man, and he needed it fast.

He was halfway down the staircase when he heard Hermione, Harry and Ron running out of the kitchen, likely having realized that Wolf and Draco might have crossed paths. They rounded the bend and started charging up the stairs without raising their gaze, nearly taking him out in the process.

"Oh!" Hermione said, colliding with Draco's shoulder. "Sorry Draco! We're just... Well... We thought that - "

"Wolf's fine," he said quickly. "He's alive. Reading, even. But I'd really like to go home now," he said, pleading to her with his eyes and ignoring the Wonder Duo. It had been a long, long day. He needed the comfort of their bed something awful. He needed her there with him.

"Of course," she said, gently. "Harry, Ron, can we talk more tomorrow?"

The boys nodded, shooting quick glances at Draco. He suspected that they didn't quite believe Wolf was unharmed. Tossers.

He kissed Hermione on the forehead and guided her back down the stairs, glaring daggers at the duo. Just because they'd saved the world, didn't mean he had to be friendly. Besides, he'd helped them, in a roundabout way. They'd said so themselves. They were even now. He owed them nothing.

* * *

><p>The moment where he finally got to cocoon with Hermione under the covers was every bit as satisfying as he expected it to be.<p>

First, they had spent some more time talking with his parents, Draco just enjoying the sound of his mother's voice after having missed it so desperately. She was surprised and momentarily saddened to hear about the death of her sister, but upon hearing that Draco was the one responsible, she shot him a look of pure pride. Hermione's look was more one of thanks. Even with a heart as good as hers, she knew the world was a better place without Bellatrix.

Hermione had clearly told Narcissa about their relationship, because aside from the "beloved" comment earlier, the woman seemed downright pleased to see Draco stroking the back of Hermione's hand as she talked. He'd been embarrassed about being caught for a fraction of a second before he realized that there was nothing wrong with the picture. He'd simply found a woman he was comfortable being affectionate with. His mother didn't care, and he certainly wasn't ashamed of it. Things were different now. He could do this. He could be the bloke with the steady girl and the loving relationship. He'd just never expected to find himself in this situation. When he was a Death Eater, part of him assumed he would never really survive all that long. He certainly never planned beyond the next mission, and had never pictured what his life would look like down the line. It just didn't occur to him that he'd ever make it there.

Now he knew what his life could look like. A complete 180 from where he had been. It was nearly enough to turn him into a fucking optimist.

Eventually everyone went off to bed. His parents would stay with them at the house for as long as it took to get the manor livable again, but Draco secretly hoped it would take a while. He'd come to enjoy his father's company immensely, and he figured he would never get tired of seeing his mother. Hermione seemed to be quite fond of his parents, so really, there was no rush for anyone to leave. It made him strangely giddy to think of the four of them living under one roof for a while. All alive. All happy. It was a bizarre concept, but he was working on making it seem normal. Making it seem like despite his past, he deserved this.

Hermione broke Draco's train of thought by scooting under the covers with him and burying her face in his chest. He realized with a start that she was already fully undressed.

"Hermione? Are you sure you want to - "

She silenced him with a kiss, running her soft hands down his exposed chest and hooking her fingers on the waistband of his cotton pants.

"Yes," she said, and pulled down the offending garment. "No more wasting time."

Her forwardness had him ready to go within seconds and he responded happily to her advances, slipping his fingers inside of her and finding that she was more than set. Merlin, she wasn't kidding around. Her hips met the movement of his fingers full on and she grabbed his length firmly, giving him the most torturous squeeze. A soft cry escaped her lips. Fuck, this was going much faster than he'd expected. Was he totally misguided to imagine that their first time would be some sort of sweet lovemaking session that took hours to complete?

With a frustrated groan, she pushed him flat on his back and swung her leg over him, pressing themselves together intimately. He was perfectly positioned to enter her, and he hadn't even done a thing. He looked up at her with a mix of wonder and confusion. Perhaps he had been misguided after all. She wanted this _now_.

"Holy shite Hermione, I can take it slow you know, if you prefer to - "

"Draco," she said cutting him off. He decided that she was welcome to sit on him like this anytime. Seeing the love of his life straddling him, confident, beautiful and stark naked was something he could never ever tire of. He struggled to keep his focus as she began to talk again. _Words. She's saying words_. "This is the first of many times we're going to make love tonight. We can go slow later."

With that, she lowered herself onto him, and he let out a mix between a groan, a gasp and a cry.

"Make me yours," she whispered into his ear. Oh yes, the bossy Hermione Granger was definitely back, and Draco had never been happier about it.

He obeyed.

* * *

><p>He obeyed three times, as it turned out, each time more incredible than the last. Hermione was fast asleep now, curled up against his chest, their bodies completely intertwined.<p>

Draco was still catching his breath. Or maybe he was just trying to slow down his heart. Either way, his chest was so full of good feelings that he was getting choked up. He looked down affectionately at the mass of curls he'd come to love, and said a little thank you to the universe for bringing Hermione back into his life. He only wished he could give something back to her... She'd saved him. In every way, she'd saved him. He wanted to give her the world in return.

Hermione twitched and whimpered and Draco sobered up quickly. _Of course_. Voldemort may be gone, but the night terrors still haunted her. The success of the final battle couldn't wipe away the terrified faces of those poor kids. Hermione started to cry softly into Draco's chest.

And then a thought hit him like a bolt of lightening.

Sure, the success of the final battle might not dull her pain, but _he_ could. Excitement started to surge through his veins. Why hadn't he thought of this before?

Every Death Eater had a special talent. Some were good planners. Some were good killers. Some made potions and some doled out torture.

Draco messed with people's minds.

He was very good at it, always receiving praise from his former colleages on his skills. He could search, infiltrate, confuse and alter people's memories with disturbing speed and accuracy. It had been ages now since he'd practiced his art. Once his family started getting pushed out of the inner circle, he wasn't asked for his abilities as often. After they were rescued and he lost his wand, there was really no way for him to do anything. He'd been rendered magically impotent.

But he had his wand now.

Carefully, without disturbing Hermione, Draco reached his free arm over to the bedside table and gently lifted his wand from where it rested. Hermione was sobbing now, and he started to whisper calming words to her as he pushed her hair away from her face. He placed the tip of his wand to her temple and readied himself.

Suddenly, he was there. The classroom was dark and full of a strange, toxic mist. Hermione had placed the charm on herself, screaming hysterically as the children dropped like flies around her. The battle boomed in the background, fire and explosions echoing in the distance. The scared faces of the children were carving themselves into her memory as they cried and collapsed, shrieking for their parents. Draco found himself shuddering within the memory. His heart broke for her, having to see this every night. It was truly horrific.

Then he went to work.

One by one, the children's faces became blurry. The definition of their features disappeared, and the crying quieted. Instead of shrieking and falling, the children were sitting calmly and then laying down to sleep. The sounds of the battle became muted, taken over by a soft wind and the chirping of the bugs in the field outside. The children slept, wrapped up in cozy blankets, and the Hermione inside the memory patted them sweetly, telling them to rest. She wasn't hysterical anymore. She was calm, reflective, and sad. Sad because she knew the war would take these children somehow, but at least, for the moment, they were safe. The memory was altered. She would always feel the sting of their deaths, she would know that they were gone, but the terrible details were missing from her mind. And starting now, she would know she had helped them, somehow, if only just for caring as much as she did. Abstract melancholy replaced the terror. Melancholy that would fade, bit by bit, over time.

Draco pulled out of her memory with a gasp. He was crying... Shaking at the atrocity Hermione had been dealing with for two years now. He looked down at her face. She was sleeping calmly, and he put his wand down before wrapping her into a tight embrace, telling her how much he loved her, even though she was asleep. Eventually, his tears slowed, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

They could do anything together, he realized, and he wanted to do it all. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to raise a family with her. He wanted to be everything he always assumed he wasn't good enough to be. She made him better, and he was going to show his thanks by _being_ better.

But for now, he would start their journey by joining her in a night of sound, peaceful slumber, wrapped up tightly in each other's arms.


End file.
